.V*  V*     ¥ 


■■^-■- 


SYLVICOLA  : 

(J iJlc/UoJ    ^/fyyCt-Jj^  ^t^tt/ 

VinMiua,  Wlis. 

'Tii  TBI  wmm. 


BY  REV.  WILLIAM  HAIK.HTON. 


Tlie  raiiirt  of  Heavou  mibeeded  washeil  my  head, 
And  Snnim'^r  suns  theiv  burnings  on  me  shf-d  ; 
The  Ti'ght  d«'\v8  to  my  choek  their  cold  lips  pressed, 
Thv  zephyr  \vo(>ed  m^  and  the  storm  careased. 

[Hee  Introduction. 


VlROgUA,  WISCONSIN  : 

HENRY   CASSON,  JR.,  PRINTER. 

1878. 


Thk  Vkrnon  CorNTV  Ck-NSor 

l?()()k,  job  and  I.etter  Press  Printing  Kstablisbment. 

XiRogiA,  Wisconsin. 


To  the  dear  friends 

Who  have  encouraged  me  to 

Publish  them,  and  to  all   kind  readers, 

These  Idylls  and    Fantasies  from  the   heart  of 

Canadian  backwoods  and   the  Avilds  of 

Wisconsin,  are  aflfe6tionately 

Dedicated    by    the 

AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 

I  know  not  what  may  be  the  fate  of  this  little  book.  1 
make  no  appeal  to  the  hearts  or  sympathies  of  a  kind 
public,  well  knowing  that  it  must  stand  or  fall  on  its  own 
merits  or  demerits  alone. 

I  have  been  solicited  to  co\k6t  in  book  form  the  fugitive 
pieces  already  published  in  the  local  pai)ers,  and  I  have  done 
so  without  taking  time  to  corred  faults.  Many  of  these 
pieces  were  written  in  early  boyhood  and  published  in  the 
Canadian  papers  under  the  nom  de.  plume  "Svlvicola." 
So  sweet  is  the  impression  left  on  my  heart  of  their  recepdon, 
that  1  have  given  as  the  tide  of  my  litde  book  a  name  still 
dear  to  me.  May  these  songs— faulty  as  they  are— bring  to 
your  heart  a  tithe  of  the  joy  they  have  given  mine. 

WILLIAM  HAUGHTON. 

Viroqua,  Wisconsin,  1878. 


INTRODUCTION. 
My  little  bark,  at  rest  so  long, 
Full  freighted  with  thine  own  glad  song, 
I  launch  thee  forth  on  life's  wild  wave 
With  few  to  welcome,  few  to  save. 
What  kindly  hand  on  that  rough  sea 
Thy  pilot  and  thy  guide  may  be ; 
^  What  sheltering  and  responsive  breast 
Will  harbor  thee  and  give  thee  rest  ? 
Yet  onward  o'er  thy  journey  speed  ; 
Thy  message  some  lone  heart  may  need ; 
Some  hand  of  thy  dear  gems  may  take 
To  bind  a  brow  for  love's  sweet  sake. 
.  .      On,  and  to  whom  thou  comest,  tell, 
O  song  of  mine,  we  love  them  well ; 
,    And  let  thy  voice,  though  rude  thou  art, 
Fall  as  the  dew  on  some  i)oor  heart. 

■■■"■'       *-"'      ■'■"  ■'-*'-'      ■  •'•■■■■■'        ■-.''■      •■■'  ■-■, 
In  boyhood's  hour  I  loved  the  dark  green  wild, 
And  worshipped  Nature  even  from  a  child  ; 
By  lake  and  stream  and  under  starry  skies 
I  lisped  in  childhood  her  wild  melodies. 
My  home  was  in  the  woodlands ;  from  a  boy 
I  climbed  her  mountains  with  exulting  joy. 
Deep  in  the  valley,  where  the  fountain  played. 
Through  Summer's  hours  my  lingering  feet  delayed. 


'I'hc  mills  of  heaven,  unheeded,  washed  my  head, 

And  Summer's  suns  their  burnings  on  me  shed  ; 

The  night  (knvs  to  my  cheek  their  cold  lips  pressed  ; 

The  zephyr  wooed  me  and  the  storm  caressed. 
From  day  to  day  1  trod  the  wild  till  woke 
My  soul  to  song,  and  o'er  my  vision  broke 
Th-  solt  enchantment  of  the  poet's  dream 
In  that  wild  vale  by  Klva's  shadowy  stream. 

There,  on  its  sheltering  bank  reclined, 
'Twas  mine  the  Sylvan  Muse  to  find, 
And  in  tliat  fountain-cleft  retreat 
I  knelt  and  worshipped  at  her  feet, 
Till  from  her  pensive  eyes  to  mine 
There  passed  a  power— a  si)ell  divine  ; 
•'      And  dreams  that  caught  their  light  ft-om  heaven 
Awhile  to  my  rapt  heart  were  given. 

1  plucked  the  blossoms  from  .the  bough 
,'   And  twined  them  round  her  radiant  brow; 

■       Then  in  love's  first  outpouring  there 

Made  the  thrilled  heart's  impassioned  prayer. 

"O  thou  whose  magic  tones  impart 
Such  freshness  to  my  fevered  heart !   . 
Sweet  spirit  of  an  angel  clime,  -   -^    .^^ 

-  —        Of  rapturous  songs  and  dreams  sublime  |^  „-;. 
,  Of  starry  eyes  and  seraph  brow, 

My  beautiful,  to  thee  I  bow. 


Wouklst  thou  but  touch  my  heart  with  fire, 
My  yearning  soul  to  song  inspire  ; 
My  harp  I'll  offer  at  thy  shrine- 
It's  sweetest  numbers  will  be  thine. 
Ah,  were  this  heart  to  thine  but  pressed. 
Soft  pillowed  on  that  angel  breast ; 
These  lips  receive  from  thine  the  kiss 
That  steeps  the  soul  in  dreams  of  l)liss. 
Fron-*  that  sweet  dream  I'd  wake  to  thrill 
With  music,  mountain,  vale  and  rill. 

• 

"Angelic  Muse!  Nymph  of  the  woodland  bowers, 
Thou  lovest  to  tread  where  glide  the  silver  streams ; 

Thy  sylvan  couch  is  soft  with  forest  flowers 
Beneath  the  cedar  when  the  Summer  beams. 

Upon  this  bank  beside  thee  I'd  recline 

\Vhere  tinted  waters  kiss  thy  sandaled  feet ; 

That  fliir,  sweet  brow  with  forest  flowers  I'd  twine, 
And  woo  thine  eyes  till  their  soft  glance  I'd  meet. 

I'd  press  for  thee  the  summer  fruits  and  bring 

Their  cooling  nedar  when  thy  lips  are  dried ; 
For  thee  the  heart's  most  thrilling  songs  I'd  sing 
^^   While  thou  art  resting  by  the  fountain  side. 

And  when  thy  limbs  grow  languid  in  the  heat 
Of  Summer's  noontide ;  where  the  willows  weep 


By  Elva's  fountain  would  I  l)athe  thy  feet 

And  fan  thee,  fair  one,  with  a  branch  to  sleep." 

She  smiled  upon  me  as-  she  gave 
The  boon  she  taught  my  heart  to  crave. 
"Had  I  not  claimed  thee  as  my  own," 
She  whispered,  "me  thou  hadst  not  known  : 
Then  take  this  lute,  and  1  shall  guide 
Thy  wanderings  like  some  fairy  bride. 
I'll  tune  for  thee  its  rustic  strings, 
And  warm  thy  soul's  imaginings ; 
And  thou  wilt  seek  the  shady  grove, 
Where  hides  at  noon  the  amorous  dove. 
Thy  feet  shall  through  the  valley  stray, 
Where  sunbeams  on  the  streamlet  play  ; 
And  when,  with  virgin  blush,  the  morn 
.,  Doth  kiss  the  dewdrop  from  the  thorn, 

And  in  the  calm,  sweet  eventide 
I'll  wander,  dear  one,  by  thy  side. 
.    Then,  take  this  lute,  nor  need  I  tell 
Of  all  to  which  its  songs  may  swell : 
-  Each  scene  that's  wild,  sublime  or  fair, 
Near  Nature's  heart,  I'll  meet  thee  there ; 
And  if  one  wreath  of  honor  thou    ^ 
•   Wouldst  ever  bind  upon  thy  brow, 
„  Go  strike  that  lute  with  daring  hand 
And  sing  thine  own  wild  .vestem  land." 


'Ihat  hour  is  past  and  (led  the  scene 

1  loved  so  long  and  long  must  love ;    ' 
There  life's  enchantment  best  hath  been, 
There  turns  my  heart  where'er  1  rove. 
The  mountain  wilds,  the  vale  and  lake 
To  song  my  soul  as  erst  may  wake. 
Time  hath  not  chilled,  though  time  hath  worn 
The  lute  through  many  a  trial  borne, 

l]ut  not  these  scenes  alone  that  shed     ■'     '; 

Full  many  a  joy  now  tiuenched  and  deacl ; 

There  love  its  first  sweet  treasure  gave,''  •;*  J; 

There  lies  my  long  lost  darling's  grave.' 

Then  onward,  O  dear  gems  of  song!        . 
My  little  bark,  at  rest  so  long,  -   .  v:'   ;   ; 

I  launch  thee  forth  on  life's  wild  tide, 
An  unseen  watcher  at  thy  side,       .    '  \     ^ 
And  out  upon  that  troubled  sea      /     , 
Some  hearts  will  hail  and  welcome  thee.. 


'TWAS  ONLY  A  SHELL.       ;   ,. . 
'Twas  only  a  shell  by  the  river  side — 

A  tiny  and  dehcate  shell ;    •  *' >■ 

But  twas  kissed  by  the  lips  of  the  tinted  tide, 
As  it  sle]Jt  where  the  pearly  waters  hide, 

And  the  sunbeam  loved  it  well. 

But  alas  for  the  gem  with  the  delicate  dye ! 

ft 

'Twas  crushed  by  the  foot  of  a  passer  by ; 


lo  ■■  -  '  '■'■-■         '->;: 

No  more  will  it  blush  to  the  tinted  wave 
In  its  sanded  bed  l)y  the  whispering  cave. 

'Twas  only  a  Uower  by  the  streamlet's  brim, 

And  it  grew  in  the  valley  deep  ; 
But  'twas  kissed  by  the  dews  when  the  day  grew  dim 
In  the  melting  tall  of  the  robin's  hymn, 

And  the  night  wind  sang  it  to  sleejj. 
But  alas  for  the  gem  with  its  violet  dye ! 
'Twas  plucked  by  the  hand  of  a  passer  by : 
No  more  will  it  blush  to  the  tinted  tide 
In  its  grassy  bed  by  the  streamlet's  side. 

'Twas  only  the  heart  of  a  lowly  one — 
A  heart  that  was  tender  and  true ; 
So  little  were  left  when  its  trust  was  gone, 
Yet  sweet  was  the  hope  that  it  leaned  u])on, 
5  *  V  And  strong  was  the  love  that  it  knew. 

But  alas  for  its  life  !     On  a  cruel  day    ; 
A  shadow  fell  and  it  wi  hered  away. 
V  ;'  'Twas  a  faithless  love — 'twas  a  trust  betrayed, 

And  the  broken  heart  of  a  lowly  maid. 

O  red-lipped  shell  by  the  sanded  cave ! 
O  violet  gem  by  the  tinted  wave !         •    . 

^  ()  trusting  heart  of  a  lowly  one!  

Away  and  away  from  my  dream  you've  gone. 
Sad  types,  when  the  spoiler's  hand  is  nigh. 
Or  the  careless  foot  of  a  passerby. 


II 


VKSPKR  SONG. 

Softly  o'er  the  pur j)le  tide, 

Like  some  joyous  bird  we  glide. 

List!  what  low,  sweet  echoes  break, 

W'cirdlike,  o'er  the  traiKiuil  lake. 

Si)arkling  midst  the  tinted  spray 

Orient  pearls  of  amber  play  ; 

On  the  zephyr  steals  along 

Music,  mingling  with  our  song. 
O  summer  eve,  delay  thy  flight, 
And  come  not,  yet,  O  starry  night ! 
Thou  'rt  beautiful,  but  ah !  thy  brow 
Would  break  the  spell  that's  o'er  us  now. 

Yonder  cloud,  with  sunset  dyed, 

J3ends  to  kiss  the  purple  tide. 

Fainter  and  yet  softer  still 

Falls  the  light  on  vale  and  hill. 

Hush  the  ve-;per  song  and  rest. 

Dreamlike,  on  the  lake's  still  breast, 

While  the  day's  departing  hue 

(iilds  those  skies  of  shadowy  blue. 
O  summer  eve,  delay  thy  flight, 
And  come  not  yet,  ( )  starry  night ! 
Thou  'rt  beaut'ful,  but  ah !  thy  brow 
Would  break  the  spell  that's  o'er  us  now. 


12 


FORSAKEN  AND  LONKLV. 

Forsaken  and  lonely, 

■  ■/■■■■<■ 
I've  clung  to  thy  breast 

And  looked  to  thee  only 
For  solace  and  rest.  - 

'Twas  thine  to  bereave  me, 
'Tis  thine  to  illume  ; 

Ah  1  why  dost  thou  leave  me 
To  darkness  and  gloom? 

And  then,  in  mine  angiiish, 
1  he  Tempter  drew  nigh  : 
"''*'''  "Why,  fool,  dost  thou  languish  ? 
^ '  *    ■     *    Go,  curse  Him,  and  die! 
The  cup  that  He  dashes 

In  anger,  was  sweet :         '    ' 
Will  the  heart  when  in  ashes' 
Still  Dlead  at  His  feet  ?"' ''-^ 

Ah  Father!  unhxiMed*     ;  •     '^ 
,*•  '  The  Temjoter  stood  near —    - 
In  sorrow  I've  i^leaded,        '     ^ 

And  wilt  thou  not  hear  ?        ' 
Thine  hand  hath  pursued  nie  ; 

All,  all,  I  resign  ! 
When  thou  hast  sulxlued  me 

Let  mercy  be  thine. 


u 


ForsaktMi  and  lonely, 
1  cling  to  thy  breast, 

And  look  to  thee  only 
■  Tor  solace  and  rest. 

'Twas  thine  to  bereave  me 
'Tis  thine  to  illume  ; 

Ah  !  why  dost  thou  leave  me 
To  darkness  and  gloom  ? 


->  -^i^t- « 


SONG. 

Song  bird  on  the  leafy  bough, 
Wherefore  silent?     Fly  not  now.  .,    , 
Stay,  ()  stay  !  no  foe  is  near  thee  ;  a 

Sing,  sweet  bird,  my  heart  would  hear  thee ; 
Something  of  thy  joy  't  would  borrow 
In  this  hour  of  bitter  sorrow.  :  •    ^ 

,         Warbler  on  the  leafy  bough. 

Wherefore  silent?     Fly  not  now. 

\     Hast  thou  not  some  strain  to  melt 

Sorrow  when  'tis  deeply  felt  ? 
When  the  darkness  gathers  round  us. 
When  its  damp,  cold  bands  have  bound  us. 
When  a  weary  watch  we  're  keeping 
For  the  dawn  that  mocks  our  weeping, 
Hast  thou  not  some  strain  to  melt    . 
1  ,oneliness,  so  deeply  felt  ? 


J4 

'  Would,  sweet  bird,  thou  hadst  the  skill 
My  dull  heart  with  thine  to  thrill ; 
Would  that  music,  melting  o'er  me, 
( )ne  lost  treasure  could  restore  me;    ' 
;;  )■         Then,  O  bird,  how  I'd  caress  thee; 

With  my  heart  of  hearts  I'd  bless  thee. 
Wouldst  thou  had  the  mystic  skill 
My  dull  heart  with  thine  to  thrill. 

,      .        Love  beside  me  dying  lies, 

Pleading  with  her  mournful  eyes. 
Long  she  watched  and  long  she  waited, 
Weeping,  while  with  sorrow  matM ; 
Mine  the  hand  each  link  to  sever, 
Till  I  crushed  her  heart  forever. 
Love  beside  me  dying  lies, 
Anguish  in  her  mournful  eyes. 

Ah  !  sweet  bird  upon  the  bough, 
Wake  thy  saddest  music  now  ; — 

When  we're  desolate  and  lonely, 

Sorrow's  song  can  soothe  us  only. 

Such  a  watch  my  heart  is  keeping. 

I  would  have  some  song  of  weeping:    '. 
Lovely  bird  upon  the  bough, 
Wake  thy  saddest  music  now 


15 


'  WRITTEN  IN    i860.  ' 

:      Wail  #br  the  hero  gone, 
■  O  slave ! 

Wail  for  the  hero  gone  ! 
Like  a  rock  which  the  tempest  breaks  upon 
He  stood,  while  the  might  of  his  heart  alone 
Heat  back  the  giant  wave. 

—  Weep  for  the  hero  dead, 

0  slave ! 
Weep  for  the  hero  dead ' 
Sublime  was  the  dream  for  which  he  bled. 
Be  a  martyr's  crown  on  the  hoary  head 
,  Asleep  in  a  felon's  grave. 

Mourn  for  the  hero  lost, 
0  slave  I 

Mourn  for  the  hero  lost ! 
By  that  awful  line  in  the  landmark  crossed 
Will  freedom  rise  where  the  gage  is  tossed 

To  burst  thy  bonds  and  save ! 

Wake  for  the  bold  heart  hushed, 
O  song! 

Wake  for  the  bold  heart  hushed, 
For  the  victim's  blood  that  nobly  gushed, 
For  the  captive  wounded,  chained  and  crushed, 

For  a  ])eople's  shame  and  wrong ! 


i6 


A  i.rrrLK  klbovv  room. 

(iood  friend,  don't  crowd  so, very  light ; 

There's  room  enough  for  two. 
I've  got  a  fancy  I've  the  right 

To  live  as  well  as  you. 
You're  rich  and  strong — I  ])oor  and  weak, 

Jkit  think  you  1  presume 
When  only  this  poor  boon  I  seek — 

A  litde  elbow  room  ? 

'Tis  such  as  you — the  rich  and  strong — 

If  you  had  but  the  will,    ...  -,  -   . 
Could  give  the  weak  a  lift  along 

And  help  him  up  the  hill  ; 
But,  no  ;  you  jostle,  crowd  and  strive  ; 

You  storm,  you  fret  and  fume  : 
Are  you  the  only  man  alive 

In  need  of  elbow  room  ? 

But  thus  it  is  on  life's  rough  i)ath — 

Self  seems  the  god  of  all ; 
The  strong  will  crush  the  weak  to  death. 

The  big  devour  the  small. 
Far  better  ])e  a  rich  man's  hound, 

A  valet,  serf  or  groom, 
Than  struggle  midst  the  mass  around 

Without  some  elbow  room. 


Up  heart,  my  boy  !     Don't  mind  the  shocks ;      J 

Up  heart,  and  push  along.  v   ■ 

Your  hide  will  soon  grow  tough  with  knocks, 

Your  limbs  with  labor  strong  ; 
And  there's  a  hand  unseen  to  aid,    '  """^--w 

A  lamp  to  light  the  gloom.  :•;         .      _  : 

Up  heart,  my  boy,  nor  be  dismayed,      ;  - 

But  strike  for  elbow  room ! 

And  if  you  see,  amid  the  throng, 

Some  fellow  toiler  slip. 
Just  give  him,  as  you  pass  along, 

A  brave  and  kindly  grip. 
Let  noble  deeds,  where'er  you  be, 

Your  way  in  life  illume, 
And  with  true  Christain  charity 

Give  others  elbow  room. 

And  you,  my  friend,  behind  whose  back 

A  dozen  hands  do  wait 
To  help  you  on  the  up-hill  track, 

Right  to  the  golden  gate. 
Just  have  a  little  manly  pluck ; 

Your  own  true  strength  assume. 
The  brave  heart  never  waits  for  luck, 

Or  weeps  for  elbow  room. 

I'm  struggling  on  with  might  and  main, 
An  altered,  better  man. 


i8 


Grown  w ise  from  many  a  b)-gone  pain 
And  many  a  broken  plan.  . 

Though  l)ruised  by  many  a  kickless  fall, 
Half  blinded  in  the  gloom, 

I'll  up  and  I'll  redeem  it  all ! 
But  give  me  elbow  room. 


CX)I)  BLESS  THEM.         '■    ' 

Ciod  bless  the  noble  hand  that  brings     - 

Assistance  to  the  poor  and  weak  ; 
That  binds  affection's  Ijroken  strings 

And  wipes  the  tear  from  sorrow's  cheek. 
God  bless  the  kindly  lips  that  name 

Another's  fault  with  tenderness  ; 
That  hide  one-half  the  woridvvould  blame 

And  soften  all  they  must  express, 

God  bless  the  loving  eyes  that  see 

The  brighter  side  of  every  deed ; 
That  gild  with  holy  charity  .        " 

^Vhat  others  oft  too  harshly  read. 
O  kindly  heart  and  noble  hand,  ■  ■ 

Yours  is  the  work  that  angels  do  ; 
Yours  to  fulfill  the  sweet  command  : 

"  Go  and  with  love  the  wodd  suMue." 


X 


»9 


SUMMER  SONG.  . 

The  breathing  bahn,  the  soft  perfume 
Of  beauty  bursting  into  bloom  ; 
The  dewy  morn,  the  starry  night,  . 
The  blending  waves  of  shadowy  Ifght; 
The  cloud  of  e verchanging  hue, 
The  tramiuil  heavens  so  deeply  blue, 
The  blushing  buds  upon  the  spray— 
-  These  are  thy  gifts,  O  Sun   ner^day  !       :^  i;^ 

Sweet  Spring,  in  all  her  glory  dressed— 
Young  Summer  leaning  on  her  breast, 
Crowned  with  a  wreath  of  opening  flowers. 
Fanned  by  the  breath  of  southern  bowers  ; 
The  bird's  wild  carol  from  the  bough. 
The'  haze  upon  the  mountain's  brow. 
The  peace,  the  joy,  the  flooding  light 
Thrill  the  rapt  heart  and  charm  the  sight. 

What  hand  luit  thine,  O  thou  Supreme ! 
Could  paint  the  sunbeam  on  that  stream  ? 
Could  give  the  pearly  dew  its  light. 
Or  flood  with  gems  tl.e  starry  night  ? 
Could  wake  the  myriad  joys  that  throng 
In  breeze  or  bower  or  wild  bird's  song, 
More  rapturous  than  a  seraph's  dream  ? 
What  hand  but  thine,  O  thou  Supreme? 


**-, 


20  . ;       _  ■  ^     .     ■ 

Thou  comest  iii  the  rushing  storm, 
When  terrors  robe  thine  awful  form  ; 
When  quivering  lightnings  round  thee  meet 
And  thunder  crouches  at  thy  feet ; 
When  at  thy  beck  wild  tempests  sweep 
And  shriek  along  the  howling  deep, 
And  the  mad  waves  in  terror  rise, 
Their  white  lips  pleading  with  the  skies. 

Less  glorious,  but  how  fair,  art  thou, 
When  robed  and  crowned  as  thou  art  now  ; 
Not  the  wild  anthem  of  the  storm, 
Nor  pitchy  darkness  round  thy  form,      - 
But  light  and  joy  and  peace  serene, — 
The  heavens  so  blue,  the  earth  so  green. 
What  hand  but  thine,  C)  thou  Supreme ! 
Could  paint  that  ilower  or  gild  that  stream  ! 

He  loves  not  heaven  who  loves  not  thee, 
O  wealth  of  Summer  scenery  ! 
From  whose  cold  breast  no  echoes  start 
Responsive  to  thine  own  full  heart. 
To  me,  that  land  where  angels  throng 
Is  rich  with  verdure  and  with  song. 
And  every  dream  of  heaven  is  bright 
With  earth's  dear  love,  its  life  and  light. 


vVv-^:'.      STANZAS.""'  '    -       :  '■      ■ 

Hail  sacred  star  of  Zion's  hill  ! 

Light  of  all  lands  divine  ; 
Thy  holy  twilight  lingers  still,  ^ 

Soft  gilding  many  a  shrine.  ".  . 

And  many  a  heart  is  backward  turned 

With  kindling  joy  to  where  ..      ^ 

judea's  templed  altar  burned  ^     ^  ^    ^ 

And  prophets  knelt  in  prayer.  „^ 

How  sweetly  woke  that  harp  of  old,  ^  ^  3 

How  soft  its  cadence  fell  CS  O 

O'er  many  a  mountain  shepherd's  fold  ^  ^ 

By  Sharon's  flowery  dell.  ^ 

And  music,  as  of  far-off  heaven. 

Is  round  us  melting  still,      •  •  •■ 
Like  murmurs  of  thy  brook,  rock-riven. 

By  Kedron's  holy  rill;    ;.,..,;.;.:/ 

While  echoes,  breathing  soft  and  low. 

Through  slumbering  years  awake, 
Where  Jordan's  restless  waters  flow 

By  (Galilee's  sweet  lake. 

Dear  symbols,  softly  shadowing  Him 

Who  once  these  mountains  trod — 
The  lowly  "Babe  of  Bethlehem," 

The  suftering  "Lamb  of  God." 


22 


0  star  of  Zion's  sacred  hill !  '    , 
Light  of  all  lands  divine ; 

-  Thy  holy  twilight  lingers  still       /        " 
And  many  a  heart  is  thine. 

» ■«#»■ « 

HOME  SONG— IN  MEMORY  OF  LAKE  HURON. 

Though  other  climes  are  wondrous  fair 

And  beautiful  to  me, 
And  m  its  tracery  everywhere         ' 

The  Maker's  hand  I  see ;  ."       ~ 

But  O  the  power 
Of  twilight's  hour 
On  such  an  eve  would  wake 
My  soul  to  sweeter,  nobler  song  • 

By  grand  old  Huron's  lake.        /v       '    * 

1  miss  the  quiet  of  thy  woods;       a  ^ 
The  sunset  o'er  thy  hills ;         ^        ^i  I  '   ■"; 

:  y  f  The  grandeur  of  thy  solitudes;         .  * 

/    /        The  music  of  thy  rills. 

There's  not  a  scene 
^ ;  -  Where'er  I've  been 

So  beautiful  to  me, 
And  when  I'd  sing  the  songs  of  old, 
I  turn,  dear  home,  to  thee. 

Through  many  a  scene  I've  wandered  long. 


23 


And  still  my  feet  may  roam,  ; 

Since  first  I  left  that  land  of  song—      , 
My  native  island  home. 
Yet  dearer  still 
The  rock  and  rill, 
The  mountain  and  the  brake,    ^  ^      . 
The  maple  on  thy  sunny  hills,        .     ,    , 
Afar  by  Huron's  lake.  - 

I'd  linger  on  thy  golden  strand, 

And  by  thy  waters  rest, 
To  watch  the  waves  that  kiss  thy  sand, 
The  sea  bird  on  thy  breast ; 
While  music  sweet, 
;        :        With  love  replete, 
As  in  the  by-gone  years, 
Would  lull  my  heart  to  happiness 
And  fill  mine  eyes  with  tears. 

There's  not  a  plaintive  bird  that  sings  ; 

There's  not  a  flower  that  blows. 
But  o'er  my  yearning  spirit  brings 
The  pang  an  exile  knows. 
There's  little  left 
I'y  time  micleft, 
Yet  memory's  sweetest  hours 
Will  linger  by  thy  mountain  streams 
And  midst  thine  own  wild  bowers. 


24 


Farewell,  my  home,  my  own  dear  land ! 

So  blessed  from  shore  to  shore  : 
May  Freedom's  high  and  holy  hand 
Protect  thee  evermore. 
My  song  shall  be 
Inscribed  to  thee, 
My  inspiration  take 
Its  beauty  from  thy  pine  -clad  hills 
And  Huron's  dark  blue  lake. 


AD  MEAM  MUSAM. 

Come,  my  old  harp — in  other  days 
We  trilled  some  wild  and  stirring  lays. 
Though  rude  our  songs,  yet  fall  and  free 
We  poured  untaught  our  minstrelsy  ; 
And  there  were  hearts  that  heard  and  felt 
Our  music  oft  could  soothe  and  melt ; 
Could  fall  entranced  on  beauty's  ear. 
And  wake  the  sigh  and  win  the  tear. 
Through  Keppel's  shades — by  Huron's  strand- 
1  swept  thee  with  unsparing  hand  ; 
hy  Klva's  lonely  stream  i  gave 
'I'hy  music  to  the  trembling  wave. 

Why  are  thy  nuaibers;  hushed,  ()  lute? 
Why  hang  thy  chords  untuned  and  mute. 


25 


When  myriad  voices  call  to  thee 
With  nature's  matchless  melody. 
Here  still  the  morn  thy  songs  invite — 
The  parting  eve,  the  starry  night — 
The  fragrant  vale,  the  leafy  hill, 
The  lake,  the  mountain  and  the  rill  : 
Here  where  Itasca's  gorgeous  lake 
With  glory  burns — awake,  awake  ! 
Where  Mississippi's  waters  roll 
Are  scenes  to  warm  and  nerve  the  soul. 

Wt  love  the  land  whose  kindly  breast 
A  welcome  gave  and  bade  us  rest. 
Her  patriot  songs,  her  birds  and  Howers, 
Her  mountains  and  her  lakes  are  ours. 
No  stranger  wanders  to  her  heart, 
Then  longs  to  leave  it  and  depart; 
Her  generous  grasp  is  round  him  thrown- 
She  wins  and  wears  him  as  her  own. 
O  heaven  blessed  land  I     from  sea  to  sea. 
From  isle  to  isle,  they  throng  to  thee  : 
They  come,  thy  noblest  boons  to  share — 
Enough  for  all  and  yet  to  spare. 

In  boyhood's  years  we  loved  to  tell 
Of  how  her  heroes  fought  and  fell  ; 
How  met  the  dark  oppressor's  pride — 
heat  back  his  hosts  and,  conquering,  died. 


26 


We  loved  to  trace  her  history  o'er, 
"And  longed  to  tread  her  sacred  shore; 
To  feel  the  liberty  she  gave 
And  find  near  her  great  heart  a  grave. 
For  me,  when  1  her  name  forget — 
The  welcome  on  these  shores  I  met — 
May  I  an  ingrate  wandering  roam, 
An  ou^^cast  from  the  joys  of  home. 


;:.'/.5v^. .  NINA. 

A  SUMMER  IDYLL. 

A  maiden  sang  beside  the  sea, 

Bathing  in  the  briny  wave, 
While  the  mermaid  joyously 

Calls  her  from  its  lowly  cive  : 
"Maiden  of  the  violet  e}  es, 

Maiden  of  the  golden  hair, 
Gently  from  the  summer  skies 

C'omes  the  morning  soft  and  fair  ; 
Dancing  on  the  sunlit  sea 
Comes  the  morn  to  welcome  thee. 

"Linger,  maiden,  by  the  wave  ; 

J,inger  by  the  sunlit  sea," 
Softly  from  her  lowly  cave 

Calls  the  mermaid's  voice  to  thee. 
"Maiden  of  the  violet  eyes, 

Brow  so  pure  and  cljeek  so  fair. 


27 


Morning  from  the  summer  skies 
Comes  to  kiss  thy  golden  hair. 
Linger  by  the  sunlit  sea," 
Calls  the  mermaid's  voice  to  thee. 

Nina  of  the  golden  hair ; 
Nina  beautiful  and  fair ; 
Sweeter  than  the  breath  of  morn, 
Purer  than  the  rose  new  born. 
(,)  the  dream  that  brought  thee  nigh. 
Child  of  ideality ! 
Lent  thee  to  my  heart  awhile, 
With  that  form,  that  brow,  that  smile, 
Peerless  in  the  grace  they  wore, 
1  could  bless  forevermore,  » 

Straying  as  I've  seen  thee  stray, 
Near  the  fountain's  tinted  spray. 
Dreaming  by  the  streamlet's  side 
In  the  peaceful  eventide. 
Though  the  mystic  chain  is  cleft, 
Such  enchantment  still  is  left ; 
Memory  sings  her  song  to  me, 
Nina  by  the  sunlit  sea. 
Humbly  born,  of  lowly  race. 
But  pure  of  heart  and  fair  of  face, 
Hers  but  a  peasant's  life,  but  then 
Most  blest  was  Nina  of  the  glen. 
She  loved  to  ramble  on  the  hills 
And  dream  beside  the  mountain  rills. 


2S 


Hers  were  not  dreams  of  that  great  life 
With  gilded  toil  and  feverish  strife; 
But  those  of  balmy  summer  skies 
^Vhere  blade  or  blossom  never  dies  ; 
Of  waves  soft  rippling  on  the  shore, 
Kissing  the  sea-shells  o'er  and  o'er ; 
The  ione  sail  on  the  far  blue  sea, 
The  song  bird  on  the  leafy  tree, 
The  violet  hiding  by  the  stream— 
Of  these  did  gentle  Nina  dream. 
Nina  of  the  golden  hair, 
Nina  pure  and  bright  and  fair. 

E'en  the  woodnymph  sang  and  sighed 
^Tenderly,  when  she  was  near, 
Bending  where  the  bluebells  hide 
By  the  streamlet  soft  and  clear ; 
Still  more  sweedy  sang  each  bird 
When  the  maiden's  voice  was  heard  : 

"Maiden  by  the  sanded  stream, 

By  the  joyous  fountain  straying, 

Soft  as  summer's  parting  beam. 

Sweet  as  summer's  sunlight  playing 

Round  that  cheek  with  fond  caresses 

Through  those  silken  soft  brown  tresses. 

• 
"Maiden  by  the  streamlet's  side, 

Loveliest  of  earth's  fairest  daughters, 


29 


Bending  where  the  violets  hide, 

Bathing  in  those  pearly  waters, 
Linger  for  the  songs  we  sing  thee, 
For  the  jjleasant  tales  we  bring  thee. 

"E'en  the  waves  that  wash  thy  feet 

Blush  and  journey  onward,  bringing 
To  each  laughing  flower  they  meet. 

To  each  wild  bird  gaily  singing, 
Tales  of  thee  and  where  ,thou  rovest, 
Of  the  scenes  and  songs  thou  lovest. 

"Linger  in  the  quiet  glen  ; 

Linger  still,  ()  maiden,  near  us ; 
Songs  of  love  we'll  sing  thee  when 

Thou  art  weary  and  thou 'It  hear  us. 
When  the  twilight  dews  are  falling 
To  our  sylvan  lovers  calling." 

In  a  pleasant  cottage  mid 
Spreading  chestnuts  and  half-hid 
Underneath  the  vine  whose  leaves 
Pressed  their  soft  lips  to  the  eaves. 
Dwelt  fair  Nina.     Day  by  day. 
Through  the  summer  time,  she'd  stray, 
Selling  to  the  rich  and  fair 
Flowers  and  shells  of  beauty  rare. 
Watch  her  coming  through  the  trees. 
When  the  evening's  soft-lipped  breeze 


30 

Wanders  by  her  cheek  and  h^ir, 
Leaving  many  a  warm  kiss  there. 

Nina,  many  a  (jueenly  brow 
To  that  gentle  head  might  bow, 
Longing  midst  their  gems  to  trace 
Half  thy  beauty,  half  thy  grace; 
Many  a  lordly  knight  might  sue 

Fervendy  at  thy  dear  feet 
For  that  heart  so  pure  and  true, 

For  thot  love  so  rich  and  sweet. 
Knight,  or  swain,  or  lady  fliir, 
Loved  to  kiss  thy  golden  hair, 
Bent  with  longing  hearts  to  thee, 
Nina  of  the  silver  sea. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Nina  of  the  golden  hair, 
Lovelit  brow  and  cheek  so  fair, 
Softer  than  the  breath  of  morn. 
Red  lipped  as  the  rose  new  born, 

0  the  dream  that  brought  thee  nigh, 
Child  of  ideality  ! 

Lent  thee  to  my  heart  awhite, 

With  that  brow,  that  cheek,  that  smile, 

Matchl'.^ss  in  the  grace  they  wore, 

1  could  bless  foreveniiore. 
Lovely  as  I  saw  thee  first, 
Where  the  joyous  fountain  burst, 


MY   BOYHOOD   AND   YOUTH,  23 

day:  breakfast  at  twelve  o'clock,  after  labouring 
from  daylight,  and  supper  when  the  work  of  the 
remainder  of  the  day  was  over.  In  harvest  season 
we  had  three.  Our  dress  was  of  tow-cloth  ;  for  the 
children,  nothing  but  a  shirt ;  for  the  older  ones  a 
pair  of  pantaloons  or  a  gown  in  addition,  according 
to  the  sex.  Besides  these,  in  the  winter  a  round 
jacket  or  overcoat,  a  wool-hat  once  in  two  or  three 
years,  for  the  males,  and  a  pair  of  coarse  shoes  once 
a  year. 

We  lodged  in  log  huts,  and  on  the  bare  ground. 
Wooden  floors  were  an  unknown  luxury.  In  a 
single  room  were  huddled,  like  cattle,  ten  or  a  dozen 
persons,  men,  women,  and  children.  All  ideas  of 
refinement  and  decency  were,  of  course,  out  of  the 
question.  We  had  neither  bedsteads,  nor  furniture 
of  any  description.  Our  beds  were  collections  of 
straw  and  old  rags,  thrown  down  in  the  corners  and 
boxed  in  with  boards ;  a  single  blanket  the  only 
covering.  Our  favourite  way  of  sleeping,  however, 
was  on  a  plank,  our  heads  raised  on  an  old  jacket 
and  our  feet  toasting  before  the  smouldering  fire. 
The  wind  whistled  and  the  rain  and  snow  blew  in 
through  the  cracks,  and  the  damp  earth  soaked  in 
the  moisture  till  the  floor  was  miry  as  a  pig-sty. 
Such  were  our  houses.  In  these  wretched  hovels 
were  we  penned  at  night,  and  fed  by  day  ;  here  were 
the  children  born  and  the  sick — neglected. 

Notwithstanding  this  system  of  management  I 
grew  to  be  a  robust  and  vigorous  lad.  At  fifteen 
years  of  age  there  were  few  who  could  compete 
with  me  in  work  or  sport.    I  was  as  lively  as  a 


2>2 


Jim  had  chances  like  us  all, 
And,  like  some,  he  took  them. 

But  at  every  idler's  call — 

P>ery  trip,  or  slip,  or  fall — 
Jim  too  soon  forsook  them. 

Search  the  wide  world  o'er  and  o'er, 

Jim  is  like  too  many  more. 

Jim  they  took  the  other  day. 

With  cross-questions  crammed  him  ; 

Jim  could  neither  plead  nor  pay — 

Justice  would  not  brook  delay, 
And  into  jail  they  jammed  him. 

Canada  this  rule  has  set : 

Your  cash  or  carcass  for  your  debt. 

O  luckless,  reckless,  thoughdess  Jim  ! 

When  Dame  Fortune  failed  you, 
Friends  looked  wise  and  wondrous  prim. 
Called  you  "dunce"  and  "devil's  limb-" 

Better  had  they  bailed  you. 
Than  leave  you  there  to  rust  and  rot,    ' 
Half  fed,  half  famished  and  forgot.      ' 

Gentle  reader,  I'll  be  bound 
That  you  think  you  know  him. 

Next  time  that  your  rhymer  's  round, 

If  the  urchin's  out  of  pound. 
When  you  like  he'll  show  him; 

Then,  to  please  the  devil  still, 
Kick  him  further  down  the  hill. 


33 


WILD  FLOWERS. 

They  cfime  to  kiss  the  sunshine, 

They  spring  to  meet  the  showers, 
Unnoticed  by  the  wayside, 

These  simple  sweet  wild  Howers. 
They  blossom  in  the  valley. 

They  bloom  upon  the  hill, 
And  God's  own  hand  hath  touched  them 
With  more  than  matchless  skill. 

No  scene  on  earth  so  lonely. 

No  spot  so  wild  and  drear, 
If  kissed  by  sunlight  only. 

The  wild  flower  blossoms  there. 
They  yield  their  stores  of  nectar 

To  bless  the  murmuring  bees, 
And  shed  abroad  their  sweetness 
Upon  the  wandering  breeze. 

When  but  a  child  I  loved  them 

And  passed  the  summer  long. 
Where  violets  decked  the  meadow 
And  birds  were  wild  with  song ; 
And  when  1  see  them  springing 

In  beauty  o'er  the  plain, 
1  bless  them  still  for  bringing 
My  childhood  back  again. 


34 


()  violet  by  the  fountain, 
Sweet  gem,  surpassing  fair  ! 

C)  wild  rose  in  the  mountain, 

-     Kissed  by  the  summer  air! 

I've  twined  you  midst  the  tresses 
Of  childhood's  sunny  brow. 

Sweet  type  of  pure  caresses, 
(Jone  and  forever  now. 


'TIS  A  BEAUTIFUL  WORLD  OF  OURS. 
I  called  to  a  bird  on  the  wing, 

And  he  slopped  for  awhile  in  his  flight, 
Then  I  heard  the  sweet  song  that  I  sing. 

As  it  trembled  through  shadow  and  light : 
"There  is  joy  in  the  soft  summer  breeze. 

There  is  beauty  amidst  th    wild  bovvers," 
And  an  answer  came  back  from  the  trees — 
"  'Tis  a  beautiful  world  of  ours." 

I  said  to  a  streamlet  that  played 

With  the  sunbeams  the  midsummer  long, 
"O  linger  awhile  in  the  shade 

And  teach  me,  sweet  fountain,  thy  song." 
It  laughed  in  the  sunlight  and  then 
It  blushed  as  it  kissed  the  wild  flowers, 
.   And  tenderly  whispered  again, 
"  'Tis  a  beautiful  world  of  ours." 


35 


I  called  to  the  zephyr  that  sighed 

Through  the  blossoms  that  peeped  from  the  bough 
"O  breath  of  the  soft  summer  tide, 

What  message  of  sweetness  hast  thou?"  :  r 
"I  have  dashed  the  perfume  from  th-  spray, 
,     I  have  reveled  mid  sunshine  and  showers, 
And  I've  learned  this  sweet  song  far  away— 
'  'Tis  a  beautiful  world  of  ours.'  " 


O  heart,  canst  thou  longer  repine, 

Or  weep  for  the  mildew  and  blight ; 
Let  the  song  that  thou  hearest  be  thine— 

Its  sweetness,  its  rapture  and  light : 
There  is  joy  in  the  soft  summer  breeze, 

There  is  beauty  amidst  the  green  bowers  ; 
There  is  peace  in  the  whispering  trees— 

'Tis  a  beautiful  world  of  ours." 


(( 


PRAISE  BE  THINE  FOREVER. 

Praise' be  thine  forever, 

(;od  of  Israel's  might ; 
Thou  of  life'the"  giver, 
Thou  of  life  the  light ! 
Well  may  ransomed 'throngs  adore  thee— 
Angels  prostrate  fall  before  thee. 


36 


liut  a  holier  feeling 

Kindled  from  above, 
O'er  us  softly  stealing,  ' 

Whispers  thou  art  love. 
'Tis  the  song  that  mercy  gave  us,        < 
''lis  that  Jesus  died  to  save  us. 

Love  so  condescending, 

Pity  all  divine, 
Mercy  never  ending, 
Father,  these  are  thine, 
Fall  they  not  a  heavenly  token 
O'er  the  spirit  bruised  and  broken. 

In  the  conflict,  dearer 

Than  in  joy  thou  art ; 
Sorrow  brings  thee  nearer. 
Closer  to  the  heart. 
Trial  comes  that  we  may  prove  thee — 
Burdened  most,  then  most  we  love  thee. 

Praise  I)*,  thine  forever, 

God  of  Israel's  might ; 
Thou  of  life  the  giver, 
I'hou  of  life  the  light. 
Angels  prostrate  bow  before  thee — 
Well  may  ransomed  throngs  adore  thee. 


37 


PADDY  TO  HIS  PIPK. 

Come  hither,  me  cutty  and  comfort  me  shtill, 

And  if  ye  be  faithful  and  worthy, 
I'll  give  your  defamers  a  dab  o'  me  ciuill. 

And  I'll  write  an  apology  for  thee. 

Our  comfort  in  trouble-a  frind  in  our  need- 
Our  help  when  the  muse  we're  invokm'  ; 

O  the  sweet  consolation  that  lies  in  the  weed, 
O  the  exciuisite  pleasure  of  smokin' ! 

When  bothered  by  care  till  me  sinses  are  bowed 

And  me  janius  to  poverty  driven, 
I  light  thee  and  puff  till  me  head's  in  a  cloud 

And  1  fancy  I'm  half  way  in  heaven. 

The  best  ov  invintions,  the  highest  ov  arts, 
\  joy  and  a  beauty  have  made  thee  ; 

On  thee  have  they  lavished  the  love  of  their  hearts- 
In  silver  and  gems  they've  arrayed  thee. 

Yet  O,  me  ould  dudheen,  though  sooty  thou  art,. 

Though  delicate  lips  might  not  press  thee, 
More  dear  than  is  Biddy  to  Paddy's  ould  heart, 

With  deeper  delight  he'll  caress  thee. 


6^ 


He  loves  thy  sweet  incinsCj  all  fragrant  and  soft, 
Though  foes  ov  thy  downfall  are  schamin', 

In  wreaths  ov  enchantment  it  rises  aloft, 
And  leaves  him  ov  blessedness  dramin'. 

A  pen  in  me  fisht  and  a  pipe  in  me  jaw, 

What  beautiful  fancies  come  o'er  me ; 
All  the  world  looks  fair,  with  no  fault  and  no  flaw. 

And  the  brightness  ov  life  is  befce  me. 

I'm  thinkin'  the  gods  in  ould  times  must  have  know'n 
This  solace  long  hid  from  the  shtupid. 

For  they  smoked  from  ould  Jupiter,  up  on  his  throne. 
Right  down  to  that  urchin,  young  C^ipid. 

And  Venus,  the  darlint,  sat  squat  at  her  ease, 

While  Paris  his  fun  was  a  pokin', 
A  pipe  in  her  gob  and  her  arms  on  her  knees, 

As  she  gave  him  a  lesson  in  schmokin'. 

The  weed,  O  the  weed  !  may  it  flourish,  say  1, 
May  it  comfort  all  bards  who  invoke  it; 

May  it  bless  them  who  make  it,  who  sell  it  and  l)uy, 
And,  best  of  all,  bless  them  who  smoke  it. 

Avaunt,  all  ye  croakers!     A  word  ere  I  close: 

Be  this  dudheen  all  grimy  and  yellow. 
Just  show  me  a  chap  with  a  coal  at  his  nose 

And  I'll  show  you  a  prince  of  a  fellow. 


39 
TO  H.  C,  ON  HIS  67TH  BIRTHDAY. 

A  TRIBUTE  FROxM    HIS  CHILDREN. 

If  gratitude  and  love  combined 

A  language  of  the  soul  could  hnd ; 

If  from  the  heart  we  migiit  express 

Its  livmg  wealth  of  tenderness, 

'I'hen,  father,  could  these  words  impart 
Love's  own  sweet  message  to  thy  heari:. 

Aftection  ever  brings  thee  near, 

And  bathes  thy  memory  with  a  tear. 

We  breathe  thy  name,  and  lingering  dwell 

On  scenes  of  old,  remembered  well, 
And  when  in  prayer  we  bend  the  knee 
Our  nearts  seemed  linked  to  heaven  and  thee. 

That  life  which  no  base  action  knew— 
So  pure,  so  blameless  and  so  true- 
Around  us  ^heds  a  holy  power 
And  shields  us  in  temptation's  hour. 
What  could  a  child  from  father  claim 
More  sacred  than  a  spodess  name  ? 

God  bless  thee,  father !     On  thy  way 

May  no  dark  shadow  fall  or  stray  ; 

May  love  and  peace  and  joy  l)e  given 

To  light  thy  journey  on  to  heaven, 
And  all  that  true  affection  bears 
Ik  round  thee  in  thy  tailing  years. 


40 


(J  how  we  love  to  linger  on 
I'he  dear  old  memories  past  and  gone  ; 
To  breathe  thy  name  and  speak  of  thee 
In  all  thy  sweet  nobility. 

I'liou  'rt  treasured  \n  our  heart's  deep  core. 

vioil  DJess  thee,  lather,  evermore. 

I'he  honest  brow,  the  tender  sjiiile, 

The  heart  that  knew  no  fear  or  guile ; 

'Ihe  generous  hand  extended  wide, 

The  sympathy  to  none  denied, 

1  he  love  that  only  light  could  see, 
1  hese  were  the  gifts  of  heaven  to  thee. 

How  lorg  and  nobly  didst  thou  hght 
]n  mercy's  cause  for  manhood's  right, 
And  in  the  conHict  fierce  and  long. 
Thy  heart  was  brave,  thy  hand  was  strong. 
Dear  Freedom  found  a  willing  shrine 
In  that  true  Saxon  heart  of  thine. 

Dear  lather,  when  thy  prayers  are  poured 

'I'o  Him  so  loved,  so  long  adored, 

Still  lift  thy  constant  heart  and  pray 

for  those  beloved  and  far  away. 

u  may,  through  all  life's  changeful  hours, 
Our  father's  faith  and  (rod  be  ours. 


41 


IT  FALLS  SO  GENTLY  NOW. 

I'  wonder  why  mine  eyes  were  filled 

So  oft  with  bitter  tears, 
Why  sorrow's  voice  would  not  be  stilled 

Through  all  these  lonely  years  ? 
Though  tears  may  dim  my  eyes  again 

And  sadness  shade  my  brow  ; 
How  changed  the'pang  that  moved  me  then  : 
It  falls  so  gently  now. 

Hath  time  such  wondrous  power  to  heal 

The  wounds  we  thought  so  deep- 
Forgets  the  heart  at  length  to  feel— 

The  wearied  eyes  to  wee]:). 
Though  oft  at  memory's  shrine  again, 

As  in  the  past  we  bow- 
How  changed  the  pang  that  moved  us  then  : 

It  falls  so  lightly  now. 

When  first  the  trial  came  it  seemed, 

So  dark  the  cloud  it  shed, 
That  joy  was  but  a  dream  we  dreamed, 

And  hope  lay  cold  and  dead  ; 
But  time  brought  back  its  peace  again, 

Its  light  o'er  heart  and  brow, 
And  changed  the  pang  that  moved  us  then : 

It  falls  so  gently  now. 


42 


HARD  TIMES. 

A  monster  in  whose  hideous  face 
The  hand  of  mercy  left  no  trace, 

Has  bound  us  in  his  shackles. 
In  every  nook  he  pokes  his  nose, 
He  treads  on  everybody's  toes, 

And  grins  and  hoots  and  cackles. 

• 

The  strength  of  all  the  strong  he  tries, 
The  weakness  of  the  weak  he  spies. 

And  bares  what  long  was  hidden. 
He  pinches  both  the  rich  and  poor, 
He  knocks  at  everybody's  door 

And  enters  in  unbidden. 

And  when  the  wretch  a  victim  shakes — 
A  hold  of  some  old  friend  he  takes — 

To  keep  himself  from  falling. 
Till  both  come  rolling  to  the  dust. 
So  no  one  will  his  neighbor  trust, 

Yet  all  for  help  are  calling. 

For  this  was  saint  and  sinner  ripe. 
And  now  the  monster's  iron  gripe 
v^         To  ruin's  brink  has  pressed  them. 
Some  bravely  battle  in  his  arms, 
And  others  run  with  wild  alarms. 
As  if  the  de'il  possessed  them. 


43 


"Hard  Times !"  such  is  the  creature's  name, 
But  where  he  goes  and  whence  he  came 

Are  matters  well  worth  knowing. 
From  people's  recklessness,  'tis  said, 
The  creature  oftentimes  is  bred — 
At  least,  it  helps  his  growing. 

This  running  headlong  into  debt. 
This  spending  what's  not  earned  yet, 

Is  still  the  crying  evil. 
Of  this  let  silly  folks  beware- 
To  spend  alone  and  not  to  spare 

Will  drive  him  to  the  devil. 


A  FROLIC  ON  THE  FLOOR. 

What's  the  matter  with  you,  neighbor  ? 

Is  there  any  reason  why 
That  your  cheek  is  growing  sallow 

And  there's  jaundice  in  your  eye  ? 
Why,  you  look  as  if  you  fancied 

All  on  earth  you'd  lose ; 
If  you  didn't  set  me  laughing 

You  would  put  me  in  the  blues. 
Have  you  ever  tried  what  solace 

There  is  in  the  magic  weed? 
No  I     The  a  you  should  begin  it; 

It  may  help  you  at  your  need. 


44 

But  a  better  plan  I'll  mention, 

Since  I've  thought  the  matter  o'er— 

Have  you  ever  tried  a  frolic 

With  the  youngsters  on  the  floor  ? 

Tut,  man  I  it  is  no  wonder 

That  you're  gloomy,  grim  and  gray  ; 
That  the  horrid  bile  is  eating 

All  your  heart  and  soul  away  ; 
That  the  merry  god  of  laughter 

In  your  bosom  never  rung, 
For  you've  missed  the  only  pastime 

That  can  make  an  old  heart  young. 
O  the  prancing  and  the  dancing  !  ^ ' 

O  the  laughter  ringing  wild  I 
O  the  routing  and  the  shouting 

Of  a  happy  hearted  child  ! 
There's  a  magic  music  in  it 

Which  you  never  heard  before  : 
Try  it,  neighbor,  fu.  a  minute- 
Try  a  frolic  on  the  floor. 

Why,  good  man,  the  very  baby 
In  the  cradle  there  will  crow 

When  he  sees  us  topsy-turvy, 
Helter-skelter,  to  and  fro. 

And  young  Kitty  there  goes  screaining 
Till  she  rolls  about  with  glee. 


45 


'Tis  a  pastime  for  the  darlings, 

And  'tis  medicine,  man,  for  me.    • 
O  the  bumping  and  the  jumping ! 

O  the  laughter  ringing  wild ! 
O  the  routing  and  the  shouting 

Of  a  merry  hearted  child ! 
Now,  good  neighbor,  don't  deny  it, 

Will  it  not  your  life  restore  ? 
Then,  go  home,  good  man,  and  try  it- 

Try  a  frolic  on  the  floor. 


■»  <•>-■ 


TWILIGHT. 

They  sing  of  starlight  on  the  lake, 

Of  moonlight  on  the  sea ; 
Of  morning  splendors  as  they  break 

O'er  land  and  lea ; 
Of  tempest  when  it  shrieks  aloud  ; 
Of  thunder's  throb  from  cloud  to  cloud, 
When  quivering  through  the  heart  of  night 
The  storm  king  speeds  on  wings  of  light. 
Kut  sweeter  far 
-      The  pale  eve  star, 
The  day  fall's  darkening  blue, 
AVhen  twilight  lingers  till  the  night 
Bathes  her  with  dew. 


This  is  the  heart's  most  pensive  hour, 
It's  dreams  we  love  the  best, 
■  :  When  shadowy  tree  and  breathing  flower 

Do  speak  of  rest ; 
I:  For  light  that  dazzles  oft  may  hide 
:  ■  C      'I'he  mystic  throb  of  life's  deep  tide,  "    * 

And  nature's  kindliest  charms  are  shed    • 
When  wooed  upon  her  nighdy  bed. 
()  linger  sull 
By  mead  and  rill, 
•     And  let  thy  dewy  wing 
Enfold  us  with  the  dreams  we  love — 
The  peace  they  bring. 

I've  watched  the  moonlight  through  the  trees 

When  not  a  leaflet  stirred, 
As  night  dews  kissed  to  sleep  the  breeze 

And  hushed  the  bird. 
I've  seen  the  sunset  waves  of  light 
Fall  rippling  at  the  feet  of  night. 
As  back  she  swept,  with  shadowy  hair, 
The  golden  surf  that  lingered  there. 
But  oh !  the  power 
Of  twilight's  hour 
Is  holiest  far  and  best : 
Sweet  voices,  listening  hearts  may  hear,, 
Do  sing  of  rest. 


47 


WHITTIER. 

Sweet  bard — 
Poured  fro-n  a  gifted  lyre,  thy  song 
Thrilled,  even  as  it  passed  along 

A  lute  whose  silent  chord 
Would  wake  for  thee  a  simple  strain 
Ere  silence  o'er  it  sleeps  again. 

■  ■        O  thou 
Hast  wondrous  power  and  wondrous  skill, 
And  wondrous  love,  to  wake  at  will 

All  that  thou  wakest  now. 
Sing  on,  and  let  thy  music  be 
Rapt,  as  an  angel's  melody. 

I  read 
Thy  glovvmg  lines,  then  on  the  wing 
Of  thy  great  soul's  imagining, 

Through  realms  of  song  I  speed ; 
Or  kneel  entranced,  as  one  who  hears 
A  melody  that  melts  to  tears. 

Apart 
From  all  the  gifted  and  the  true 
Of  heaven-sealed  songsters,  there  are  two 

That  move  and  win  my  heart : 
Bard  of  a  nation's  love,  thou  'rt  one  ! 
The  other,  gifted  Tennyson. 


48 


Thy  stand 
Was  on  the  side  of  heaven  and  light ; 
Of  suffering  hearts  and  human  right, 

And  thine  the  guardian  hand  ;' 

That  swept  a  wild,  impassioned  lyre 
To  strains  of  love  and  songs  of  fire. 

The  slave, 
Loosed  from  his  galling  chain,  doth  bless 
Thy  great  heart's  holy  tenderness ; 
And  round  the  soldier's  grave 
A  nation's  love  will  linger  long,  J 

For  thou  hast  marked  it  in  thy  song.    :  /  ; 

I  dwell 
With  kindling  joy  on  what  thou  'st  won, 
O  loving  and  all  conquering  one — 

Heart  of  the  potent  spell ! 
And,  kneeling  at  the  same  dear  shrine, 
Thy  soul  in  music  touches  mine, 

O  bard ! 
Forever  round  thy  honored  head 
The  light,  the  love  of  heaven  be  shed, 

And  thine  the  sweet  reward. 
When  toils  and  tears  and  pains  are  past 
The  Christlike  heart  will  meet  at  last. 


49 


I  long 
So  much,  so  much,  thy  hand  to  take, 
And  grasp  it  once  for  love's  sweet  sake, — 

Love's  own  dear  life  of  song; 
But  bye  and  bye,  though  here  denied, 
I'll  grasp  it  on  the  other  side. 


v;     ?         SUBMISSION. 

Of  ail  the  forms  divinely  bright 
That  round  me  move  on  wings  of  light, 
There's  none  more  beautiful  than  thou. 
Maid  of  the  mild,  ecstatic  brow, 

Of  all  the  messengers  that  bear 
Sweet  tokens  of  our  Father's  care. 
The  fairest  'midst  the  thr^rag  thou  art, 
Maid  of  the  meek  and  lowly  heart. 

» 

I  know  not  what  sweet  power  of  thine 
First  touched  this  stubborn  heart  of  mine ; 
But  well  I  knew  thou  wert  from  heaven 
When  first  that  kiss  of  peace  was  given. 

Thy  Sister  Patience  near  thee  stands, 
With  quiet  heart  and  folded  hands. 
In  many  a  con  Aid  dark  and  drear 
Ye  nerve  the  soul  and  dry  the  tear. 


5° 


Sweet  hope,  that  cheers  through  many  a  strife ; 
Dear  Faith,  that  grasps  the  Rock  of  Life ; 
And  Love,  whose  song  the  seraph  sings, 
Encircle  thee  with  angel  wings. 

jMore  beautiful  that  in  thine  eyes 
A  meek  and  mournful  glory  lies, 
And  round  thy  brow  undimmed  appears 
The  diadem  of  long  shed  tears. 

Where'er  I  be — whate'er  betide, 
Where  darkness  palls  or  storms  abide, 
Be  thy  soft  arms  around  me  pressed, 
Forever  fold  me  to  thy  breast. 


CROSSINCx  O'ER  THE  CREEK. 

'Tv/as  in  the  pleasant  month  of  June, 

The  happiest  of  the  year. 
When  vales  are  filled  with  joyous  tune 

And  skies  are  soft  and  clear. 
On  one  sweet  summer  eventide. 

Our  dark-eyed  Susan  strayed 
By  Elva's  stream,  at  Harry's  side, 

The  witching  red-lipped  maid. 
Full  long  in  secret  pined  his  soul 

Of  love  he  dared  not  speak — 


Till  then — his  arm  around  her  stole 
In  crossing  o'er  the  creek. 

'Twas  but  a  slippery  way  at  best — 
A  plank  with  moss  o'ergrown — 
And  Harry'y  arm  was  round  her  pressed, 

His  heart  was  near  her  own. 
The  breeze  awhile  its  whisper  hushed 

And  kissed  them  silently ; 
The  laughing  waves  looked  up  and  blushed 

That  sweet  embrace  to  see. 
How  could  the  youth  his  secret  keep : 

How  fail  of  love  to  speak, 
When  near  him  turned  that  tempting  lip, 
While  crossing  o'er  the  creek. 

Ah  !  youngsters,  when  of  peace  ye  dream. 

And  side  by  side  ye  stray, 
Avoid  the  bridge~o'er  Elva's  stream, 

That  sweet  but  treacherous  w^ay. 
If  ye'd  be  free  from  Cupid's  dart. 

Nor  be  by  love  betrayed, 
Don't  linger  closely,  heart  to  heart, 

Tike' Harry  and  the  maid. 
Soft  words  that  must  the  soul  betray 

From  lip  and^ye  will  break. 
And  danger  lurk:;  upon  the  way. 

In  crossing  o'er  the  creek. 


5^ 


motherlp:ss. 

Poor  little  weary  one, 

Mournful  to  look  ui)on, 
Sad  those  sweet  eyes  in  their  pleadnig  to  see ! 

Is  there  no  lip  to  press 

Thine  with  a  soft  caress? 
Is  there  no  mother  heart  watching  for  thee  ? 

Sad  little  straying  one, 

Homeless  and  woe  begone. 
None  to  prote6t  thee,  to  love  thee  or  guide ; 

Is  there  no  angel  bright 

Watching  thy  steps  to-night, 
Moved  by  thy  sorrow,  unseen  at  thy  side  ? 

May  some  poor  mother  heart, 

Forced  with  its  joy  to  jxirt,  '  / 

Mourning  the  blossom  that's  blighted  and  gone, 

Touched  by  that  wan,  sad  face 

(live   ':ee  the  empty  place, 
]V)or  little  wandering,  motherless  one !    • 

Tears !  how  they're  nightly  shed 

Hands!  how  they're  in  pleading  si)read 
Heavenward,  longing  for  love  that  is  tlown, 

Yet  not  a  tear  for  thee, 

None  can  thy  sorrow  see. 
Sad  little  \\anderer,  homeless  and  lone. 


53 


May  not  a  mother's  care, 

Will  not  her  dying  prayer 
Enter  his  heart  who  hath  promised  to  be 

Light  in  life's  bitterness, 

Hope  of  the  motherless  ? 
Child  of  the  promise,  He  watches  for  thee. 


-)-**—♦- 


NELLIE. 
She  came  to  bind  atfe6tion's  ties, 

To  light  our  load  of  care, 
To  win  us  with  her  soft  blue  eyes, 

Sweet  pearl,  surpassing  fair. 
But  soon  the  earthly  bond  was  riven — 
She  went  to  lead  our  hearts  to  heaven. 

The  lily  hands  upon  the  breast 

Are  folded  still  and  white ; 
No  song  to  hush  her  babe  to  rest 

The  mother  sings  to-night ; 
But  there's  no  sorrow  on  His  heart 
Where  sheltered  now,  dear  lamb,  thou  art. 

The  summer  comes  again  to  touch 
Its  bloom  on  blade  and  tree ; 

But  ah  !  sweet  blossom,  loved  so  much. 
It  comes  not  back  to  thee. 

And  yet,  O  child  of  many  a  prayer, 

Eternal  summer  waits  thee  there. 


54 


O  hearts  that  ache  o'er  parted  ties  ! 

'Twas  hard  to  give  her  uj) — 
To  hide  your  tears  from  human  eyes, 

Yet  drink  the  bitter  cup  ; 
'Twas  hard  tt)  kiss  the  cold  white  brow 
And  lay  her  where  she's  sleeping  now. 

()  for  the  faith  that  upward  spiings 
Through  darkness,  doubt  and  gloom ; 

That  hears  the  song  a  seraph  sings, 
And  light  the  lonely  tomb.  -;  ' 

A  litde  while  to  watch  and  weep — 

There's  calm  beyond  the  troubled  deep. 

We  lay  them  down,  with  tears,  to  rest — 
The  tender  and  the  fair;  ?  :   ;  v 

We  hush  the  sorrow  in  the  breast 
And  lift  our  hands  in  ])rayer. 

He  hears  our  bitter,  mournful  cry — 

The  answer  cometh  bye  and  bye. 

The  tear  in  many  a  lonely  hour 
At  memory's  touch  may  start. 

But  lime  will  fall  with  soothing  power 
And  love  bind  up  the  heart. 

A  little  white  to  weej)  at  I)est, 

Then  home  and  heaven  and  endless  rest. 


55 


HURON. 

This  is  the  spot  and  this  the  scene 
Where  long  my  heart  and  hopes  have  been, 
And  here  again  my  lute  will  wake 
To  song  beside  the  dark  blue  lake. 

0  Huron  !   glory  of  the  west,  , 

1  read  not  on  thine  azure  breast 

The  deeds  of  grandeur,  power  or  pride 
That  swept  of  yore  thy  billowy  tide. 
i:)eparted  are  the  braves  who  trod 
Untrammeled  o'er  their  native  sod ; 
Nor  battlement  nor  tower  remains 
To  weep  their  exit  on  thy  plains. 

When  woke  the  Indian's  battle-cry, 
Fierce  as  the  eagle's  scream  on  high. 
And  many  a  dark  browed  chieftain  gave 
His  life  blood  for  a  warrior's  grave — 
Then,  Huron,  thy  dim  islands  saw 
The  watchfires  of  the  Ottawa, 
And  stretched  Algonijuin's  remnant  bands 
From  Erie's  wave  to  thy  red  sands. 

Hut  they  are  gone,  and  dim  the  trace 
'lliat's  left  us  of  that  valiant  race. 
For  them,  ()  Fame,  no  voice  thou  hast, 
Save  shadowy  legends  of  the  past. 


S6 


Could  we  long  silent  echoes  wake 
From  out  thy  depths,  O  glorious  lake  ! 
Or  read,  while  gazing  on  thy  brow 
That  page  of  old,  so  voiceless  now. 

Yet  mighty  though  that  past  may  be, 
A  nobler  morrow  waits  for  thee. 
And  soon  on  thy  dim  isles  we'll  trace 
The  footprints  of  a  mightier  race — 
A  race  whose  living  power  shall  wake 
Thy  name  to  song,  O  radiant  lake, 
Whose  deeds  forever  mark  the  scene 
With  triumjjh  where  thy  steps  have  been. 


►  <>» « 


A  PRACxMENT. 

From  the  poet's  dreamy  Aiden, 
Gathered  pearls  at  many  a  shrine, 

With  His  blessing  winged  and  laden, 
Onward,  O  thou  song  of  mine. 

Tell  the  bruised  and  weary  hearted 
Mercy  hears  their  every  cry  ; 

Every  tear  by  sorrow  started 
Finds  the  Father's  heart  on  high. 

Tell  them  in  thy  sweetest  measure, 
Tell  them  of  that  love  divine  : 


57 
Some  poor  weeping  heart  may  treasure 
Midst  its  tears  a  note  of  thine. 

Love's  sweet  music  ever  falleth 

Pangless  as  the  balm  she  brings ;  . 

Sweet,  as  when  an  angel  calleth, 

Is  the  matchless  song  she  sings. 

O  y e  hapless  hearts  that  Ian guish, 

Troubled,  tried  and  tempest  tossed. 
Think  not  in  your  hour  of  anguish 

That  your  famtest  cry  is  lost. 

I'orms  unseen  are  round  you  moving. 

Sheltering  wings  are  o'er  you  spread, 
Angel  hands,  unfelt  but  loving, 
\r  Gather  up  the  tears  ye  shed. 

Then  from  out  the  poet's  Aiden, 

Like  some  vision  half  divine. 
With  His  blessing  winged  and  laden, 

Onward,  O  thou  song  of  mine. 


►-«a-^-»- 


LET  OTHERS  TELL  HOW  GREAT  THOU  ART. 

Let  others  tell  how  great  thou  art ; 

How  great  thy  power  on  high ; — 
1  love  thee  for  the  tender  heart, 

The  kind  and  pitying  eye. 


S8 


I  love  thee  for  th'j  mercy  given, 

The  pity  deep  and  strong ; 
()  thou  art  praised  in  earth  and  heaven- 

What  need  of  my  poor  song. 

AVhen  but  a  wandering  child  I  strayed 
Far  from  the  shepherd's  fold ; 

When  wounded,  weary  and  dismayed 
My  griefs  to  thee  I  told. 

Then  didst  rhou  lift  me  in  thine  arms, 

And  on  thy  kindly  breast 
Didst  tell  me  of  a  Saviour's  charms 

And  lulled  my  heart  to  rest. 

Then  blessed  be  thy  hallowed  name, 

And  blessed  be  the  hour 
I  yielded  to  that  Saviour's  claim 

And  fled  the  tempter's  power. 

So,  while  others  tell  how  great  ihou  art, 
How  vast  thy  power  on  high, 

I'll  love  thee  for  the  tender  heart,      ; 
The  kind  and  pitying  eye. 


59 


A  WOODNYMPH. 

Two  roguish  eyes  as  black  as  coal, 
Two  lips  that  somewhere  stole 

Their  fragrance  from  the  roses  ; 
Soft  tresses,  dark  as  ebon  night, 
A  cheek  within  whose  dimpled  light 

llie  blush  of  dawn  reposes. 

A  face  so  like  a  dream  divine — 
'Twas  such  a  face  that  looked  on  mine 

With  mingled  fear  and  wonder. 
Then  suddenly  the  vines  were  stirred, 
.And  such  a  rippling  laugh  I  heard 

From  out  the  bushes  yonder. 

I  could  not  move — entranced  1  stood 
AVithin  the  shadows  of  the  wood. 

Lost  in  a  dream  Elysian  ; 
But  while  I  dreamed  the  sprite  or  fay 
Swift  vanished  from  my  sight  away, 

Like  some  enchanted  vision. 

1  called  to  mind  my  boyhood's  dreams 
Of  woodnymphs  by  the  haunted  streams. 

With  vines  and  blossoms  laden  ; 
.  But  here  in  this  secluded  wood 
Was  one  of  real  flesh  and  blood  — 

A  veritable  maiden. 


6o 


I  then  and  there  made  up  my  mind 
That  laughter-loving  fay  I'd  find — 

I'd  seek  her  late  and  early ; 
I'd  hunt  the  woodland  o'er  and  o'er — 
Yea,  search  the  land  from  shore  to  shore, 

Until  I  caught  her  fairly 

Not  long  I  sought,  O  joy  supreme  ! 
1  found  her  resting  by  a  stream, 

Half  hid  amongst  the  bushes.  ) 

Her  feet  hung  o'er  the  clamoring  tide 
That  kissed  them  and  then  fled  to  hide 

Beneath  the  bank  its  blushes. 

But  how  I  wooed  the  maiden  fair, 
What  tales  I  told  her  then  and  there, 

Of  how  my  heart  had  sought  her, 
I  may  not  speak,  O  friend,  save  this:    '■^''■y''r'-<'-^'''^] 
That  twilight  was  an  age  of  bliss 

By  B^lva's  starlit  water. 


NEWTON. 

Within  the  bosom  of  thy  quiet  hills. 

Securely  sheltered  where  no  storms  assail, 
Kissed  as  they  wander  by  the  whispering  rills 

And  bathed  m  beauty,  sleeps  a  peaceful  vale. 


6i 

A  spo^  romantic,  beautiful  and  bright, 

Touched  with  a  wild  enchantment,  soft  and  fair, 

The  lingering  summer  sheds  her  failing  light, 
And  beauty  seeks  her  couch  to  slumber  there. 

The  heart  that  loves  to  lean  on  Nature's  breast 
And  woo  her  teachings,  seeks  a  spot  like  this  ; 

Here,  worn  and  wearied  might  the  wanderer  rest 
And  dream  again  dear  childhood's  dream  of  bltss. 

When  first  I  looked  upon  thy  verdant  hills. 

Young  summer  robed  them  with  her  garb  of  light 
And  all  of  joy  that  softens,  soothes  and  thrills 
:    .   Found  my  sad  heart  and  held  my  lingering  sight. 

.    1  wandered  by  the  stream  that  gently  flows 
'■      Through  thy  fair  bosom  where  the  maples  lean, 
The  mill's  glad  music  stirred  the  soft  repose 

And  threads  of  crimson  twined  the  shadowy  green. 

All  thrilled  my  heart  and  bade  me  turn  to  Him 
Whose  works  are  glorious  and  divine  His  skill, 

And  there  I  lingered  till  the  day  grew  dim 
And  the  pale  star  went  down  behind  the  hill. 

Sweet  vale  of  beauty  !  long  may  peace  be  shed 
Upon  thy  dwellers,  now  so  dear  to  me. 

Where'er  in  life  my  wandering  feet  may  tread. 
Beloved  Newton,  I'll  remember  thee. 


62 


WABEGA:     AN  INDIAN  LEGEND. 

^^'abega — -lory  of  thy  tribe — with  pride 
The  chieftain  made  his  loveliest  one  thy  bride. 
From  nobler  warrior  ne'er  was  homage  paid 
Than  thine  to  that  unrivaled  Indian  maid. 
And  well  she  loved  thee,  for  what  hand  could  vie 
With  thine  when  woke  Algon(}uin's  batde  cry ; 
Thine  arm  the  mightiest,  thine  the  truest  lance 
That  swept  the  warpath  or  that  graced  the  dance. 
When  flushed  with  victory  from  the  battle,  thou 
The  humblest  captive  at  her  feet  would  bow, 
Breathing  thy  love,  no  deeper  than  her  own, 
With  pleading  eyes  and  soft,  entreating  tone. 

And  she  was  beautiful — Mahina's  eyes. 
Soft  as  the  shadows  of  the  morning  skies, 
Spoke  but  too  well  whate'er  the  s[)irit  felt, 
Wlien  pride  would  kindle,  or  affe(5lion  melt, 
No  sculptor's  hand  e'er  wrought  a  lovelier  face, 
Or  touched  a  form  with  more  voluptuous  grace, 
And  ne'er  did  flowers  a  happier  lustre  bring 
Than  gemmed  that  hair,  dark  as  the  raven's  wing. 
Swift  as  the  fawn  were  thy  unsandaled  feet 
To  meet  thy  warrior  in  love's  wild  retreat, 
A  quiet  vale  within  whose  depths  w^as  heard 
The  soft,  sweet  coomg  of  the  woodland  bird. 


"63 

But  woke  at  last  the  battle-cry  that  gave 
Full  many  a  \A'arrior  to  a  gory  grave, 
And  then,  Wabega,  with  love's  last  adieu, 
From  thy  fond  arms  to  meet  the  foeman  flew. 
Fierce  was  the  battle— terrible  the  foe— 
Nor  gleaming  lance  could  lay  Wabega  low. 
Of  many  warriors,  none  could  boast  like  he 
The  steel  unbroken,  filled  with  victory ; 
Of  all  the  band  who  had  for  glory  burned. 
But  few  to  tell  their  deeds  of  might  returned. 
And  war's  red  trophies  though  with  pride  arrayed 
Told  the  sad  price  they  had  for  victory  paid. 

But  why,  Wabega,  hast  thou  left  the  dance? 
Why  flung  from  thee  the  warrior's  bow  and  lance? 
In  thy  dim  eyes  and  on  the  whitening  cheek 
Do  mightier  griefs  than  war's  red  slaughter  speak. 
They  lead  thee  slowly  to  a  dark,  wild  glen, 
They  point  thee  out  a  new  made  grave,  and  then 
They  leave  thee,  silent  and  alone,  beside 
Mahina's  grave— thy  dear  and  promised  bride 

She  pined  for  thee,  and  ere  the  summer  hours 
Left  their  last  kisses  on  the  fading  flowers. 
Her  soft,  dark  eyes  were  of  their  light  bereft 
And  on  her  cheek  the  seal  of  death  was  left. 
She  pined  for  thee,  though  weli  she  knew  that  thou 
Wouldst  come  back  concjueror  as  thou  comest  now. 


64 


Thou  wert  to  her  life's  fountain  whence  her  heart 
Drank  in  existence  but  to  droop  apart. 

In  vain  the  warrior's  to  his  pride  appeal, 
His  hand  no  more  will  grasp  the  glittering  steel  ; 
His  heart  is  left  the  tomb  of  dark  despair — 
Life's  hopes  and  joys  and  dreams  lie  barfed  there. 
What  to  him  now  the  glory  he  has  brought       /  . 
From  batde's  conflict,  when  so  dearly  bought  ? 
The  heart  that  kindled  when  his  deeds  were  told, 
Is  chilled  by  death  and  in  the  ground  lies  cold.  ' 

Wabega,  glory  of  the  Wyandot,  :  ^ 

'  Can  battle's  call  from  sleep  arouse  thee  not? 
Thou  from  whose  eyes  the  Mingo  turned  and  fled, 
Why  trembling  shrink  and  hang  the  weary  head  ? 
Thou  who  couldst  meet  the  foe  with  fearless  brow ; 
A  woman's  soul  is  all  that's  left  thee  now. 
And  tears  are  trembling  in  those  eyes  that  once 
Gave  back  the  foe  Aigonciuin's  lightning  glance. 
Shame  on  thee,  chieftain !  leader  of  the  brave. 
Like  some  soft  maiden  weepmg  by  the  grave. 
What  though  of  one  that  loved  thee  thou'rt  bereft? 
Wake  thee  and  win — there's  many  a  maiden  left. 

Vaui  their  ai)pealing  to  his  power  or  pride  : 
^Vithin  his  heart  the  warrior's  fire  has  died. 
Like  some  scathed  tree  he's  left  o'er  what  has  passed 
The  hghtning's  bolt  or  storms  unpitying  blast, 


His  eyes  were  bent  full  many  a  time  afar 
Where  burned  at  eve  the  lonely  twilight  star, 
And  in  the  west,  where  the  dark  mountains  reared 
Their  lofty  heads,  an  angel  form  appeared 
With  outstretched  hands,  invitii-g  him  to  rest 
From  his  deep  sorrow  on  her  cloudy  breast, 
(;irded  and  crowned  with  sunset's  crimson  dyes, 
Winged  with  the  sunbeams  from  the  radiant  skies : 
And  a  sweet  voice  from  out  these  clouds  of  snow 
W^ould  whisper  words  in  music  soft  and  low — 
Words  of  such  soothing  and  of  power  so  sweet. 
He  yearned  to  worship  at  the  angel's  feet. 

'-Come,  O  Wabega,  come,  I  wait  for  thee, 
O'er  the  blue  mountains  will  our  bridal  be  ; 
Let  the  dark  grave  no  longer  bind  thy  feet, 
Come,  O  my  warrior,  and  the  lost  one  meet. 
Here  not  a  cloud  the  summer's  glory  shades, 
No  leaflet  droops,  nor  fragrant  blossom  fades, 
Joy  lingering  laughs  beside  the  sparkling  rills. 
Eternal  summer  sleeps  upon  these  hills. 

"I  sang  for  thee  with  weeping,  when  afar 

Thy  strong,  brave  arm  was  bared  in  deeds  of  war ; 

I  prayed  that  great  Chemanitou  would  fling 

Around  thy  head  the  shadow  of  his  wing. 

I  craved  for  thee  the  life  to  me  denied, 

But  ah  !  1  miss  thee,  loved  one,  from  my  side ! 


66 


Thine,  the  last  name  that  trembled  on  my  breath, 
The  last  sweet  memory  in  the  hour  of  death. 

"But  come,  O  my  loved  one,  away  to  the  west, 
Where  the  star  in  the  twilight  sinks  down  to  its  rest. 
O  list  to  the  welcomes  that  murmuring  break 
The  songs  of  the  spirit  land  o'er  the  blue  lake. 

• 

"Thy  path  shall  be  bright  where  the  blessed  ones  rove, 
The  home  of  the  brave  who  are  faithful  to  love ; 
Thy  plumes  shall  be  twin'd  with  the  sunbeams  that  glow 
On  the  clouds,  whose  soft  bosoms  are  fairer  than  snow. 

"The  way  may  be  lonely,  but  J  will  be  near 
When  thy  feet  become  weary,  to  guide  and  to  cheer. 
Then  haste,  (.)  my  loved  one,  away  to  the  west. 
The  bride  thou  art  weeping  invites  thee  to  rest." 

Onward  for  many  a  weary  day     ;  r  '       . 

Wabega  trod  his  lonely  way.  '"  . 

On  from  the  land  of  shade  and  snows 
To  where  the  fragrant  south  wind  blows. 
And  bird  and  stream  and  tree  and  flower 
Became  more  beauteous  every  hour, 
As  guided  by  an  unseen  hand, 
His  steps  approached  the  spirit  land. 
-.     And  echoes  o'er  the  blue  lake's  breast 
Came  floating  from  the  for  off  west. 
Soft  breathing  in  melodeous  songs 


67 


Of  welcome  from  the  waiting  throngs; 
Thy  steps  before  have  never  been 
Through  such  a  wild,  enchanting  scene. 
Here  might  thy  lonely  journey  cease, 
And  thy  worn  heart  lie  down  in  peace. 
No  storm  comes  here,  no  chill  of  night, 
The  glory  of  the  wilds  to  blight- 
No  wrathful  spirit  ever  leaves 
His  shadow  on  the  lake's  blue  waves : 
A  thousand  hues  with  blending  dye 
Shed  their  sweet  light  on  earth  and  sky. 
And  joyful  birds  that  know  no  fear, 
And  flowers  of  rich  perfume  are  heie. 

Yet  onward,  o'er  yon  radiant  lake 
its  journey  thy  canoe  must  take ; 
There  waits  for  thee  Mahina's  hand, 
There  welcome  thee  the  spirit  band. 
But  onward !  fearless,  thou  may'st  glide. 
No  storm  sweeps  o'er  that  crystal  tide; 
Lit  from  the  glory  of  the  west, 
Nifht  flings  no  shadow  o'er  its  breast. 
Onward !  and  steer  thy  bark  aright 
Where  yonder  mountains  burn  with  light. 

One  purple  mountain  guides  thee  now, 
The  home  of  great  Chemanitou  ; 
Thy  sorrows  and  thy  pangs  are  past. 


6S 


Thy  soul  is  near  its  home  at  last ! 
.     'I'here  thine  enraptured  eyes  shall  see 
The  land  of  immortality.       .,  " 

O  blissful  region,  where  the  skies 
Burn  with  eternal  sunniier  dyes. 
No  shadow  cold — no  winter  chills 
The  verdure  on  these  sunlit  hills, 
.     Nor  war's  wild  peal,  nor  battles  song 

Is  heard  the  sleeping  vales  among. 
•   Nor  tempest  sweeps,  nor  thunder  wakes 
i   An  echo  on  these  tranquil  lakes. 

|i  But  fairest  sight  thine  eyes  can  see, 
The  lost  and  loved  one  waits  for  thee ; 
Robed  with  the  sunbeam,  round  her  brow 
A  wreath  of  light  is  burning  now.  .. 
In  those  dark  eyes,  so  soi.,  so  sweet, 
The  old,  dear  love  thine  own  will  meet ; 
Her  lips  unstained,  to  thine  shall  press 
An  angel's  dream  of  blessedness.    ; 
How  sweeter  far  to  linger  here 
By  vale  so  green  and  lake  so  clear, 
Than  bear  again  Mahina's  form 
To  thy  dark  land  of  cloud  and  storm. 

!:  ^Vabega  hear  I   what  words  are  thcr'^ 

■^  Soft  breathing  on  the  balmy  breeze  ?  -  -  -   - 

A  voice  is  calling  on  thee  now — 

A  message  from  Chemanitou ! 


69 


Alas,  alas!  thou  must  retake 
Thy  journey  back  o'er  yonder  lake. 
For  many  days  thy  path  shall  be 
'Midst  thine  own  mountain  scenery  ; 
A  chieftain's  power  will  be  thy  lot— 
The  bulwark  of  the  Wyandot ; 
And  by  the  council  fire  thy  word, 
Like  wisdom's  echo,  shall  be  heard. 
Then  cease  to  wail  upon  the  grave 
Of  her  whose  life  thou  couldst  not  save  : 
Go  and  fulfill  thy  destiny, 
And,  fair  as  now,  she'll  wait  for  thee. 

Then  came  the  sound  of  myriad  wings, 
Love  breathing  on  harmonious  strings  ; 
The  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead 
Waved  their  soft  pinions  round  his  head. 
And  came  o'er  his  enraptured  sight 
Ecstatic  dreams  of  joy  and  light. 
Till  his  thrilled  heart  within  him  burned, 
As  from  the  Elysian  fields  he  turned. 

. 

Alas !  Wabega,  'twas  a  dream  that  went 
Across  thy  soul,  even  as  thine  eyes  were  bent 
On  the  pale  star  that  watched  thy  tears  at  eve, 
As  thou  wert  watching  by  the  lost  one's  grave. 
'Twas  but  a  dream,  and  yet  a  dream  that  left 


7° 


A  happier  influence  on  the  heart  bereft. 
But  what  a  change  !  Night's  chill  is  on  thy  head, 
And  thou  art  bending  o'er  the  buried  dead. 
No  echoes  here  the  gloomy  silence  break 
Save  the  sad  moaning  of  the  shadowed  lake.  '  • 
But  rise,  O  warrior !  thine  that  land  may  be — 
That  dream  at  last  may  find  reality.  . 


>  «c*  « 


HAVE  YOU  ERRED,  O  BROTHER  ? 

Have  you  erred,  O  brother? 

Have  you  wronged  another  ? 
In  some  hour  when  passion  swayed  you. 
When  a  moment's  wrath  betrayed  you  ? 

Have  you  erred,  O  brother  ? 

Have  you  wronged  another  ? 

Will  there  be  no  sorrow 

When  )e  meet  to-morrow  ? 
Brother,  go  ;  be  noble  hearted. 
Bind  again  the  ties  you've  parted, 

Then  you'll  meet  to-morrow 

Without  shame  and  sorrow. 

Has  some  loved  one  grieved  you. 
Some  old  friend  deceived  you  ? 
In  some  hour  when  passion  swayed  him, 
When  a  moment's  wrath  betrayed  him, 


71 

Has  some  loved  one  grieved  you, 
Some  old  friend  deceived  you  ? 

Brother,  judge  not  blindly ;  •        ' 

Meet  the  erring  kindly. 
With  thine  own  heart's  interceding, 
It  may  be,  his  tears  are  pleading. 

Brother,  judge  not  blindly, 

Meet  the  erring  kindly. 

One  there  is  in  heaven 
A  Who  hath  much  forgiven  ; 

O ne  who  every  blessing  gave  us ; 
One  who  sutfered  death  to  save  us. 

Be  like  Him  in  heaven. 

Who  hath  much  forgiven. 


;     .      '  ALICE. 

Gentle  Alice,  blue  eyed  maiden, 
Tnpping  lightly  through  the  glen. 

With  thy  pail  of  wild  fruit  laden, 
Welcome  to  our  eyes  again. 

Joyous  Alice,  gently  shaking 
Thy  fair  tresses  to  the  breeze, 


72 


Midst  their  gold  the  sunlight  breaking, 
Softened  by  the  shadowy  trees. 

Didst  thou  gather  all  these  berries 

With  thine  own  fair  hands  alone  ? 
Felt  these  boughs  of  wild,  red  cherries 
.   Arm  no  stronger  than  thine  own  ? 

Ah  !  methinks  from  yonder  hamlet 
Stole  a  youth  with  raven  hair ; 

Didst  thou  linger  by  the  streamlet 
For  a  dark-cheeked  comer  there  ? 

Soft-eyed  Alice,  now  we  hear  thee  •  ■-  ' 
Singing  blithely  through  the  glen  ; 

While  he  bent  those  branches  near  thee, 
Didst  thou  sing  or  listen  then  ? 

'Neath  the  trees  and  midst  the  bushes  ! 

What  a  pleasant  place  to  stray 

Loitering  where  the  wild  rose  blushes. 

Gathering  berries  by  the  way. 

Ah,  sweet  Alice!  soft-eyed  maiden, 
Tripping  lightly  through  the  glen. 

With  thy  pail  of  wild  fruit  laden. 
Welcome  to  our  eyes  again. 


.■■':,■/,,:.:.-;,;'    SONG.  --';■-:.■:;..: ''^ ■:':.•" ^ :  '":■  ■^-:, 

Beautiful  bird  with  a  trembluig  wing, 

Weary  and  lost  in  thy  wandering, 

Thou  hast  journeyed  far  o'er  a  treeless  wild, 

Where  the  tempest  sweeps  and  the  rocks  are  piled. 

Go  back,  go  back,  to  thine  own  wild  bovvers, 

Where  the  air  is  sweet  vvith  the  breath  of  flowers. 

"I  have  wandered  east,  I  have  wandered  west^ 
I  have  journeyed  far  from  my  lowly  nest ; 
I  have  searched  the  woodlands  o'er  and  o'er, 
IJut  the  mate  that  I  love  will  return  no  more, 
And  I've  come,  where  no  happy  heart  is  nigh, 
To  watch  my  Jiangs,  or  to  see  me  die." 

Alas !  poor  bird  !  but  perchance  his  eyes 
Have  looked  for  awhile  on  a  foirer  prize  : 
Some  siren's  song  from  the  leafy  defl 
Hath  wiled  his  heart  with  a  wizard  spell. 
Return,  sweet  bird,  it  may  be  that  now 
He  mourns  thy  loss  on  the  lowly  bough. 

"A  maiden  came  to  our  trysting  place — 
A  weeping  maid  with  a  sad  white  face ; 
^    She  sang  of  a  false  deceiver's  art, 
-   Of  a  trust  betrayed  and  a  l)rokcn  heart. 

And  we  answered  back  from  the  swinging  spray : 
'  But  man  alone  will  his  mate  betray.'  ' 


74  ..---.:;■.;■:■■->- ^..- 

O  beautiful  bird!  then  it  cannot  be 
That  thine  absent  mate  has  been  false  to  thee  ? 
;         He  knew  no  change,  but  he  lies  full  low   - 
'      Alar  where  the  sapphire  violets  blow. 
Go  back  to  thine  own  wild  haunts  again  ; 
Thou  wilt  find  a  mate  in  the  bowery  glen. 

"A  lady  came  to  our  trysting  tree, 
And  she  sang  a  song,  but  so  mournfully, 
Of  a  loved  one  lost  on  the  cruel  wave, 
And  her  heart  lay  deep  in  his  billowy  grave. 
And  we  answered  back  from  our  green  retreat : 

*No  woman's  heart  can  its  love  repeat.' 


>  >> 


O  beautiful  bird  with  the  dewy  eyes  ! 

Between  our  hearts  there  are  kindred  ties ; 

We  have  loved  an'l  lost,  and  around  us  springs 

The  bond  which  a  mutual  sorrow  brings. 

We'll  sing  of  the  past  in  this  lonely  wild 

Where  the  tempest  sweeps  and  the  rocks  are  piled. 


LOVE  CANNOT  LIVE  ALONE 
I  sat  and  mused  in  dreamy  thought, 

And  visions  rarae  and  went 
Of  bliss  that  wakes  but  lingers  not 

When  love's  dear  light  is  spent. 


75 


I  thought  how  love  will  pine  and  die, 

If  unie(iuited  long, 
W  hen  from  the  heart  no  answering  cry 
■     Gives  back  her  own  sweet  song 

How  at  the  door  she  lingering  lies, 
With  tenderness  divine,  ^      . 

Long  seeking  what  the  heart  denies — 
An  entrance  and  a  shrine. 

1  thought  of  many  a  lowly  life, 

( )f  many  a  weary  brain  ; 
>'o  rock  to  shelter  in  the  strife,     , 

No  hand  to  soothe  the  pain. 

"O  love  !"  1  said,  "who  wearieth  not, 
\Vh>  wretchedness  like  this? 
O  love :  w  hen  \n  ildly  and  long  sought. 
Why  still  deny  this  bliss?" 

Back  to  my  heart  and  on  my  ear, 

In  soft  and  tender  tone, 
There  came  a  whisper  sweet  and  clear — 
"Love  cannot  Jive  alone." 

She  seeks  her  kind  where'er  she  be, 

She^  gilds  all  life  with  light, 
And  'neath  her  blessed  ministry 

E'en  sorrow  has  no  night. 


76 


She  meets  the  blow  for  others  given. 
And  bears  its  greater  part ;     • 

She  guides  the  weary  one  to  heaven, 
And  binds  the  broken  heart.    ;     ■ 

She  seeks  the  wretched  and  betrayed 

And  makes  their  cause  her  own  ; 
She  waits  the  welcome  long  delayed. 
••       Yet  cannot  live  alone. 

O  bind  her  to  your  heart  of  hearts  ! 

Forever  make  her  thine,         -  - 
For  when  the  angel  Love  departs  " 

No  light  of  life  cin  shine. 

Yes,  even  love  will  pine  and  die, 

If  unrecjuited  long; 
When  from  the  heart  no  answering  cry 

(;ives  back  her  own  sweet  song. 


COME  HOME. 


Come  home,  O  loved  one,  daylight  soft  declineth. 
And  the  pale  stars  look  sadly  from  the  sky  ; 

My  lone,  lone  heart  with  anxious  sorrow  pineth 
For  the  sweet  peace  it  feeleth  when  thou'rt  by. 


77 
Come  home,  O  dearest;  thine  shall  be  the  greeting 

Thou  so  much  lovest  from  ni>  lips  to  hear, 
When  near  my  own  thy  cherished  heart  is  beating, 
And  th)  low  voice  falls  softly  on  my  ear. 

For  thee  the  welcome  ever  fondly  given  ; 

For  thee  the  warm  seat  by  the  bright  fireside  ; 
For  thee  the  arm  whose  circling  is  thy  heaven ; 

For  thee  the  kisses  now  too  long  denied. 

And  this  sweet  babe,  wrapped  in  its  softest  slumbes, 
Will  wake  and  smile  into  thine  own  glad  eyes. 

O  come  !  each  welcome  my  poor  heart  would  number 
Thy  long  tarrying  still  too  long  denies. 

No  echo  answers  but  the  low,  sad  breaking 
Of  winds  that  moan  around  yon  shadowy  hill 

Thine  eyes  with  lookmg  through  the  gloom  are  achmg. 
Come  home,  O  dearest  one  I  why  linger  still? 

Thou,  too,  art  weary,  darling— long  and  lonely 
Thy  days  have  been,  but  now  thy  steps  are  near 

To  her  who  needs  but  thy  dear  presence  only 
To  breathe  no  sorrow  and  to  shed  no  tear 


PEACE,  NOT  AS  THE  WORLD  GIVETH. 

I  asked  my  heart  when  memones  thronged 
Around  it  from  the  buried  years,  '        . 

Was  there  no  peace  lor  which  it  longed, 

No  shelter  in  this  vale  of  tears  ? 

Then  like  a  weeping  child  it  knelt, 

Sick  with  Its  sonow  at  His  feet. 
Pleading  the  lowhness  it  felt, 

An«l  yearning  His  dear  love  to  meet. 

As  when  a  father  stoopeth  low 
And  lifts  the  wanderer  to  his  breast, 

Wipes  with  his  hand  the  tears  that  flow, 
And  lulls  the  weary  one  to  rest. 

So  did  He  lift  me  to  His  heart — 

The  sorrow  stilled,  the  sin  forgiven — 

He  bade  the  lowliness  depart, 

And  kissed  me  with  th^ peace  of  heaven. 

There  is  no  hand  on  earth  to  bless, 
O  Father! — no  dear  hand  hke  thme. 

Soft  in  its  holy  tenderness, 

Sweet  in  its  touch  of  love  divine. 


7V 

ONE  CHRISTMAS  NIGHT. 

There  sat  in  my  house  on  a  Christmas  night, 

Two  angels  wondrous  fair — 
The  one  with  a  brow  of  elysian  light, 
And  the  other  with  raven  hair. 

•Twas  the  dark  browed  angel  who  had  held 

To  my  lips  that  bitter  draft, 
On  the  mournful  day  when  by  heaven  impelled 

From  the  Circean  bowl  I  quaffed. 

On  the  desolate  day  when  mydariing  died, 

And  my  soul  was  wrung  with  pain,— 
When  he  whispered  of  death  with  his  ghostly  breath, 

'Till  he  tortured  and  turned  my  brain. 
But  there  sat  in  my  house  this  Christmas  night. 

Two  angels  wondrous  fair — 
Uhe  one  with  a  brow  of  elysian  light, 

And  the  otlcr  with  inky  hair. 

'J  hen  down  m  mine  eyes  and  around  my  breast 

His  raven  hair  he  swept, 
Till  the  shadows  ot  death  my  soul  oppressed, 

And  my  heart  in  its  anguish-wept. 

"O  angel  of  death,  was  my  home  too  bright- 
Had  the jNi  aster  smiled  too  long,        ^  ,    ._^-  , 
1  hat  you  cast  such  a  blight  on  its  peaceful  light, 
And  you  crushed  out  its  life  of  song  ? 


So 

"Does  my  soul  yet  again  to  your  breath  lie  bare  ? 
Will  your  shadow  no  longer  depart,  , 

'Till  you've  blinded  my  eyes  with  your  inky  hair. 
And  you've  kissed  our  the  light  of  my  hearts, 

But  there  sat  in  my  house  this  Christmas  night 

'1  wo  angels  \\ ondrcus  fair — 
The  one  had  a  brow  of  elysian  light — 

The  angel  .  '  Peace  was  there. 

He  stood  between  me  and  the  shadow  of  death, 
And  a  kiss  on  my  brow  he  pressed ; 

And  I  felt  the  sweet  life  of  that  angel's  breath, 
As  I  lay  on  his  kmdly  breast  >    : 

He  swept  with  hib  hands  from  my  blinded  e;.es, 

That  shadowy  hair  away, 
A  nd  shed  the  soft  light  of  his  own  sweet  skies, 

Where  the  damp  and  the  darkness  lay. 

Again  I  feel  strong  for  the  battle  of  life, 

By. this  pledge  of  a  Father's  love ;  ' 

1  can  patiently  wait  till  the  end  of  the  strife, 
,  As  my  Willie  is  waiting  above. 

So  there  sat  in  my  house  on  a  Christmas  night 
Two  angels  wondrous  fair — 
^      The  one  with  a  brow  of  elysian  light. 
And  the  other  uith  raven  hair. 


.n' 


STANZAS. 

Go  call  the  summer  flower  that  springs 
And  bind  it  on  thy  breast.      " 

Then  if  the  soul  to  beauty  clings, 
There  let  it  meeldy  rest. 

Or  if  thou  knowest  one  that's  fair. 

Whf)se  heart'is  pledged  to  thine, 
Amidst  the  maiden's  sunny  hair    . 

The  simple  blossom  twine. 

There  is  a  language  in'the  flowers 
Affe(5lion  only  reads,  . 

And  all  of  love,  of  hope  that's  ours 
That  language  softly  pleads. 

Kor  weep'to  see  its  bloom  decay, 

'Tis"but  a  typeof  all 
Our  earthly  bli^s  that  fades  away — 

Our  happiest  dreams  that  fall. 

Then  call  the  fairest"flo\ter  that  springs, 

And  bind  it  on  thy  breast. 
And  if  thy' heart'to  beau ly  clings, 

There  let  it  meekly  rest 


>  '■■ 


i'X 


S9 


A  LITTLE  CHILD. 

God  help  the  man  without  a  mate, 

The  ship  without  a  chart, 
The  house  by  death  left  desolate. 
The  bruised  and  broke^i  heart; 
But  sadder,  darker,  lonelier  far 
l''han  midnight's  hour  without  one  star, 
Or  empty  hearts  to  love  exiled — 
A  home  without  a  little  child. 
O  light  of  life, 
Where  storm  and  strife 
Are  hushed  to  lasting  rest ; 
Where  pain  is  healed 
And  heaven  revealed, 
And  nothing  lives  un blest. 
Shrine  of  affection  undetiled — 
A  home  where  dwells  a  little  child. 

We  sing  "The  augel  of  the  hearth," 

Of  "Love's  sweet  power  to  charm," 
Of  all  things  pure  in  heaven  and  earth 

That  shield  our  homes  trom  harm. 
From  these,  though  beautiful  they  be. 
We  turn,  O  joy  of  joys,  to  thee! 
Purest  of  all  things  undefiled — 
A  home  where  dwells  a  little  child. 


«» 


There  lives  a  spell 
No  tongue  can  tell, 
A  charm  surpassing  {air- 
Where  home  is  bright 
With  loving  light- 
God  sent  this  blessing  there.       - 

Ah,  shadowy  spot,  to  joy  exiled— 
A  home  without  a  little  child. 

God  help  the  man  without  a  mate— 

The  loved  ones  called  to  parti 
Gcd  help  the  house  left  desolate,  .       , 

The  empty,  aching  heart.  ■     ^ 

God  help  the  tempest  driven,  whose  way 
Is  marked  where  no  sweet  sunbeams  stray, 
Whose  path  lies  where  the  rocks  are  piled,— 
But  most,  tne  home  without  a  child. 
'11-iough  tears  and  pain 
May  long  remain, 
Though  many  a  hope  lies  dead. 
Yet  joy  will  flee, 
Dear  spot,  to  ihee. 
Where  childhood's  light  is  shed 
Shrine  ot  affeaion  undetMe'l— 
A  home  where  dwells  a  little  child. 


#■ 


BLut  there  are  homes  where  sad  hearts  ache, 
Where  nightly  tears  are  shed— 


84 


But  left  them — else  the  heart  would  break — 
-     The  memory  of  the  dead! 
The  empty  crib,  the  toy  laid  by, 
Treasured  and  kissed  so  tenderly ; 
The  wounded  heart,  unreconciled — 
The  home  robbed  of  its  gentle  child. 
O  heart  unblest. 
So  sick  for  rest ! 
()  hands  outstretched  for  aid  ! 
Sick  of  the  gloom 
By  )  onder  tomb 
Where  thy  lost  pearl  is  laid. 
A  little  while  to  joy  exiled, 
Then  heaven's  sweet  home  with  that  sweet  child. 


►^^►* 


A   DIRGfc:. 

Child  of  the  marble  brow, 

Fair  as  the  dawn  art  thou — 
Stainless  and  white,  but  as  cold  as  the  cla>. 

Peari  of  the  pulseless  heart, 

Passionless,  pure  thou  art — 
Pure  as  the  angels  that  wooed  thee  away. 

Beautiful,  peerless  one, 
Joy  that  I  rested  on — 
Mute  are  the  lips  that  I  pressed  with  ray  own. 


85 


Softly  thy  name  I  speak, 
Tenderly  I  kiss  thy  cheek- 
White  as  the  marble,  but  cold  as  the  stone. 

Hfre  at  thy  side  1  kneel, 

Hiding  the  pain  I  feel. 
Kissing  the  hands  that  lie  clasped  on  thy  breast. 

Oh  !  for  the  night  to  fall, 

Dark  with  its  starless  ])all, 
Oh !  lo  be  laid  at  thy  feet  and  at  rest.    \ 

Soon  will  they  bear  thy  clay 
Hence  to  the  grave  away, 
Soon  will  the  darkness  fall  damp  on  thy  brow, 
'I  hen  will  my  heart  be  hid 
Under  thy  coffin  lid, 
Dearest  and  treaswed  one,  lost  to  me  now. 

Pearl  of  the  pulseless  heart. 
Passionless,  pure  thou  art— 
•    Pure  as  the  angels  that  lured  thee  away. 
Child  of  the  marble  brow. 
Fair  as  the  dawn  art  thou. 
Stainless  and  white,  but  as  cold  as  the  clay. 


LINES  WRITTEN  ON  AN  OLD  LETTER. 
These  lines  are  wet  with  many  a  tear    . 

By  silent  sorrow  shed  ; 
The  hand  that  trembling  traced  them  here 


Is  cold  and  dead ! 
They  tell  of  love  so  sadly  tried, 
Of  yearning  long,  too  long,  denied. 

The  love  that  still  unwearied  clings 

I'o  hope  tlirough.many  a  pain. 
Till  back  to  sorrow's  heart  she  brings 

The  light  again, — 
That  lingering  weeps  at  heaven's  dear  shrine, 
And  waits  and  wins,  because  divine. 

And  once  again,  in  dreams  I  see 

A  vision,  oh  !  how  sweet : 
An  old  gray  head  bent  reverendy 

At  Jesus'  feet ! 
The  pleading  hands  outstretched  in  prayer ! 
A  w  hite-winged  angel  lingering  there. 

O  tell  me  not  that  prayer  is  lost, 

Or  weak  the  human  cry 
To  save,  'ere  ruin's  line  is  crossed. 

Where  crushed  hearts  die  ; 
'i'hat  they  who  weep,  and  work  and  wait 
Return  unlieard  from  mercy's  gate. 

Would,  from  diyrest  beyond  the  grave, 

Dear  saintCvl  tather,  thou 
Couldst  learn  how  strong  thou  wcrt  to  save, 

How  answered  now ; 


How  he  for  whom  thy  tears  were  given  ^ 
So  loved  thee  and  so  sought  thy  heaven. 

x\h,  ye  who  work,  and  watch  and  pray, 
With  patient  hearts  and  hands, 

Beside  you,  on  hfe's  shadowy  way 
The  angel  stands; 

And  ye  shall  reap  who  sow  in  tears 

The  harvest  joy  of  after  years. 


87 


BEEFSTEAK. 

I'm  half  ashamed  the  truth  to  tell, 

Yet  must  it  be  confessed, 
There's  something  of  the  Cannibal 

About  me  at  the  best. 
I  crave  no  viands  rich  and  rare. 

No  dainties  that'you've  got, 
But  give  me  in  my  bill  ot  fare 
A  beefsteak  smoking  hot, 
A  beefsteak  smoking  hot. 
O  luscious  morsel,  rich  and  sweet ! 
O  crowning  joy  of  butcher's  meat !     . 
O  dish  the  very  gods  might  eat ! 
A  beefsteak  piping  hot ! 

One  night  I  passed  a  butcher's  shop, 
--•   -  As  hungry  as  a  crane,     ^      


88 


And  there  I  spied  a  mutton  chop    . 

A  gainst  the  window  pane ! 
And  just  a  little  way  from  that, 

In  beautiful  relief, 
Encircled  by  its  rim  of  fat, 

A  noble  round  of  beef. 

A  noble  round  of  beef. 
I  paused  awhile,  then  turned  aside. 
Came  back  again  and  almost  cried, 
So  loved  and  yet  so  long  denied  I 

That  noble  round  of  beef. 

I  had  a  dream  that  night  when  I 

Half  famished  went  to  bed : 
I  saw  an  army  marching  by, 

A  butcher  at  its  head  ! 
And  every  man  a  trencher  bore, 

A  mug  and  mustard  pot, 
And  ah !  to  try  and  tempt  me  sore — 
A  beefsteak  smoking  hot  ! 
A  beefsteak  smoking  hot ! 
I  screamed  with  joy — the  spell  was  broke  ! 
From  that  enchanted  dream  I  woke 
And  found  'twas  nothing  but  a  joke, 
That  beefsteak  smoking  hot 

There's  hunger  in  my  heart  to-night, 
A  yearning,  O  how  deep ; 


89 


Here  lies  my  supper,  but  the  sight ! 

It  well  nigh  makes  me  weep. 
A  cup  of  tea,  a  scrap  of  pie, 

A  marrow  bone  that's  bare, 
Some  scalloped  things  to  please  the  eye, 

But  not  a  beefsteak  there  ! 

But  not  a  beefsteak  there ! 
O  that  some  generous  friend  of  mine, 
Who  loves  the  thing  for  which  1  pine, 
Would  ask  me  out  some  day  to  dme, 

A  nd  have  a  beefsteak  there. 

CAPTIVE. 

1  saw  a  sad,  suee'  face  to-da> 

Pressed  to  the  window  pane. 
Soft  liquid  eyes  of  daik,  dark  grc.y, 
That  lingering  looked  far,  far  away 
Across  the  summer  plain 

So  sad  the  cheek,  so  thin  and  white. 

So  wan  the  childish  brow. 
That  as  1  sit  and  muse  to  night 
I  see  them  in  the  pale  starlight. 
They  haunt  my  memory  now. 

The  flowers  were  nodding  to  and  fro, 

Their  rose-tipped  leaves  apart, 
While  sang  the  brooklet  soft  and  low, 


90 


The  childhood  songs  she  used  to  know, 
Back  to  her  listening  heart 

The  scene  around  was  wondrous  fair, 

By  vale  and  river's  brim  ; 
Soft  summer  fragrance  filled  the  air, 
And  still  the  white  cheek  rested  there 

Till  the  sweet  eyes  grew  dim. 

What  visions  froat  the  far  blue  skies, 

VS'  hat  dream  of  hill  and  vale, 
Came  with  those  voiceful  memories 
To  light  awhile'the  pensive  eyes 
And  flush  a  cheek  so  pale. 

O  prisoned  heart,  in  sad  unrest ! 

Poor  heart,  so  lone  and  low, 
Fain  vvnuld  I  lift  thee  to  my  breast, 
And  bear  thee  to  some  grassy  nest 

Where  purple  violets  blow. 

The  longing,  lingering,  lonely  look, 

The  >v,i!:,  wan  cheek  so  white; 
The  heart  that  heard  the  singing  brook, 
The  eyes  that  sought  the  shady  nook. 
Are  in  my  dreams  to-night. 


91 
LOST. 


The  winter  winds  go  moaning  by, 

As  though  in  sorrow  weeping, 
And  all  beneath  the  leaden  sky 

In  shrouds  of  snow  is  sleeping  ; 
But  o'er  the  bleak  and  trackless  waste 

A  wanderer  lately  crossed, 
While  sobs  the  cold  and  mournful  blast — 

He's  lost,  lost,  lost! 
God  help  the  soul  that's  tempest  tossed, 
(iod  h«lp  the  weary  wanderer  lost. 

O'er  yonder  wild  and  resdess  wave. 
The  fire-winged  storm  is  flashing, 

By  rock  and  cave  deep  thunders  rave 
And  billows  wild  are  dashing : 

But  o'er  that  seethmg,  walling  tide 
A  bark  but  lately  crossed. 

And  winds  are  shrieking  wild  and  wide- 
She's  lost,  lost,  lost ! 

God  help  the  mariner  tempest  tossed, 

God  help  the  gallant  crew  that's  lost! 

See  yonder  temple  glittering  bright 

In  all  its  tinseled  glory. 
There  vice  enslaved  with  ghastly  might 

The  weak,  the  young  and  hoary. 


92 


7  here,  tempted  by  some  wanton's  spells, 
A  youth  the  threshold  crossed, 

And  there,  a  muffled  whisper  tells. 
He's  lost,  lost,  lost! 

God  help  the  blind  that's  tempest  tossed, 

God  help  the  young  so  sadly  lost! 

See  yonder  hearth  so  silent  now, 

That  wife  so  lone  and  cheerless, 
A  drunkard's  victim,  once  that  brow, 

That  home  to  hnn  were  peerless. 
Ihe  wan  and  mournful  face  reveals 

What  blight  that  young  life  crossed, 
The  soft,  sad  eye  to  heaven  appeals — - 

lie's  lost,  lost,  lost! 
God  help  the  wife  so  tempest  tossed, 
God  help  the  drunkard  madly  lost  I 

O  Father  I  Thou  whose  kindly  deeds 

No  human  life  can  number, 
\\'  hose  generous  hand  the  raven  feeds. 

Whose  eylids  know  no  slumber. 
Wilt  thou  in  mercy  guard  and  guide 

The  heart  by  sorrow  crossed  ? 
Shield  thou  the  tempted  and  the  tried. 

And  save,  O  save    the  lost ! 
Fold  to  thy  breast  the  tempest  tossed. 

And  save  the  soul  not  wholly  lost 


93 


r 
I 


WHEN  THE  DARK  HOUR  COMES 

When  the  dark  hour  comes,  O  to  whom  will  you  fly  ? 
Where  hide  when  the  angel  of  death  passes  by  ? 
What  hand  will  )ou  grasp  as'you  enter  the   gloom ? 
What  star  glimmer  o'er  you,  what  lamp  will  illume  ? 

When  the  dark  hour  comes,  as  it  comes  to  us  all, 
\\  hose  arm  will  support  you,  on  whom  will  you  call  ? 
What  shadow  of  light  from  the  past  will  arise, 
A  pall  o'er  your  heart  or  a  beam  in  your  skies  ? 

Too  oft  in  our  pride  and  self  glory  we  dream 
There  is  much  in  our  lives  overy  fault  to  redeem. 
No  avenger  is  near  us,  no  phantom  we  dread, 
As  we  bury  the  dust  of  our  sins  with  the  dead. 

But  alas !  from  the  grave  will  their  ashes  return, 
Ana  kindled  tohfe  in  our  souls  will  they  burn? 
The  avenger  but  waits,  and  he'll  smite  for  the  past. 
When  the  dark  hour  comes,  as  it  comes  at  the  last. 

O  fool!  but  to  fancy  that  help  will  be  near,  - 

That  the  angel  of  peace  at  your  call  will  appear, 
W  hen  you  clothe  every  page  of  the  past  with  a  pall. 
O'er  whose  darkness  no  tear  of  repentance  will  fall. 


94 

O  Saviour  of  life !  while  its  brightness  is  by, 
Teach  us  to  remember  the  cloud  draweth  nigh ; 
'Tis  thine  and  thine  only,  to  lighten  the  gloom, 
And  thine  to  support  as  we  enter  the  tomb. 

.     ,  '  .■        .   ■;         .,.  •  i  . . ,    .'1     ..    r    ''■■■:■    >'      ■'  ■ 

W  hen  the  dark  hour  comes,  O  to  whom  will  you  fly  ? 
Where  hide  when  the  angel  of  death  passeth  by  ? 
What  hand  will  you  grasp  as  you  enter  the  gloom  ? 
What  star  glimmer  o'er  you,  what  lamp  will  illume  ? 

EVKNIXG 

'Tis  eve,  yet  the  robin  still  linge-.j 

To  pour  out  his  heart  ere  he  flies— 
Ere  night  with  her  shadowy  fingers 

Hath  plucked  the  last  beam  from  the  skies. 

The  heat  of  the  noontide  is  over. 

The  songbirds  are  hushed  in  the  trees  ;     . 

1  have  watched  for  thy  steps  like  a  lover, 
Sweet  hour  of  the  balm  and  the  breeze. 

How  soft  art  the  shadows  thou  'rt  sending,  • 

How  sweet  is  thy  blush  in  the  vale,      • 
And  afar  where  thy  ros^s  are  blending, 

One  star  watches  softly  and  pale. 

'J  he  morn  hath  a  fairy -like  splendor, 

'i  he  night  hath  a  glory  divine  : 
But  thou  comest  with  joy  ever  tender — 

1  he  hght  and  the  shadow  are  thine. 


-. — >.^ 


95 


The  voice  of  the  summer  wind  sighing, 
Low  murmuring,  soft  through  the  gien  ; 

The  call  of  the  night  wind  replying — 
Sweet  twilight,  we  hail  thee  again. 

Come,  breath  ^  on  my  brow  ere  thou  goest, 

O  summer  wind,  gentle  and  kind, 
There  is  peace  in  the  kiss  thou  bestowest — 

Thou  leavest  no,  sorrow  behmd.  .   '  * 

1  have  wooed  thee  when  far  o'er  the  mountain 
Thy  wing  with  the  night  dew  was  cold, 

And  at  morn  w  hen  the  purple  lipped  fountain 
Its  tales  of  thy  tenderness  told. 

1  have  telt  on  my  cheek  thy  caressing,  -^ 

And  touched  thy  light  pinions  with  ioy, 

As  they  swept  o'er  that  vale  like  a  blessing, 

1  he  home  of  my  heart  when  a  boy.  ,; 

'1  hy  wings  vvith  soft  fragrance  are  laden. 

Thy  breath  is  with  melody  sweet : 
Hast  thou  come  from  the  land  of  bright  Aiden,  -, 

Or  trampled  the  rose  with  thy  feet  ? 


Sweet  hour  of  the  balm  and  the  breezes  ; 

Sweet  song  of  the  mu)  muring  streams,  t  ,. 
When  beauty  enchants  all  she  seizes,       .    ■>■ 

And  fills  the  soft  night  vvith  her  dreams.  '■ 


4    •♦■-• 


96 


TO  A  SLEEPING  CHILD. 
Rest  thee,  beloved  !     Bright  be  thy  dreams  to-night. 

Bathed  as  thou  art  in  slumber  still  and  deep  ; 
Mine  the  last  face  that  faded  from  thy  sight 

When  thy  dear  head  fell  on  my  heart  asleep. 

Love  is  so  potent,  it  can  shield  thee  long 

And  shape  thy  dreams  With  more  than  earthly  power, 
It  lights  all  life,  and  makes  the  watcher  strong 

To  guard  thy  slumbers  till  the  waking  hour. 

Will  1  be  with  thee,  darling,  where  thou  art,  . 

In  that  sweet  dreamland  but  to  childhood  known, 
Or  wilt  thou  still  seem  nesthng^on  the  heart 

Whose  tender  beating  answers  to  thine  own  ? 

The  lovelight  lingers  on  thy  laLy  biow: 
Thy  lips,  balm  breathing,  like  two  rosebuds  part. 

Broods  not  some  angel  o'er  thy  pillow  now. 
Kissing  the  dreamlight  round  thy  quiet  heart. 

Yet  midst  the  throngs  that  look  upon  His  face 
No  N\  atcher's  heart  hath  deep«r  love  t  han  mine  ; 

Time  hath  not  chilled  a  father's  fond  embrace. 
Nor  stained  the  lip,  sweet  lamb,  that  presses  ihme. 

How  much  of  heaven  upon  our  homes  is  pressed; 

How  low  it  bends  the  hungry  heart  to  meet, 
An  Elim's  shade  where  weary  feet  may  re^t      ' 

By  Marah's  waters  one  dear  spring  is  sweet. 


97 

Rest  thee,  beloved !     My  heart  keeps  watch  to-night, 
And  guards  th)  slumber,  O  so  still  and  deep! 

Mine  the  last  face  that  faded  from  thy  sight 
As  thy  dear  head  fell  on  that  heart  asleep. 


TO  M.  A.  H., 

ON  THE  ANNIVERSARY  OF  HER  WEDDING  DAY, 

I've  looked  upon  your  face  to-day — ,    -    ; 

To  me  still  fair!  -    .  .  :..  ; 

But  girlhood's  bloom  has  passed  away,   ,  .  .    .  . 
And  there  are  threads  of  silver  gray  .  ;, 

Amidst  your  hair.  ,  .         ■ 

And  yet  I  felt  that  time  had  shed 
Its  holiest  blessings  on  that  head 
Though  from  your  cheek  the  light  had  fled— 
The  peace  was  there.  '    ■    .:    • 

When  years  ago  1  took  your  hand 
For  life  allied  '     -    l  C 

We  started  through  a  fairy  land 
With  many  a  dream  that  two  had  planned, 

Yet  long  denied. 
What  though  life's  rosier  liglit  is  gone,       -    -  • 
And  tempest  rocked,  and  worn,  and  wan, 
There's  something  left  to  lean  upon—      •  .-  % 
The  true  and  tried.  -     ;■■.    ;  v  ,* 


•^ 

n^'- 


''iif..'^*  -»%. 


98 


Look  round  !     Wheie  are  the  friends  we  knew 

In  years  gone  by — 
Gone,  gone ! — yet  yonder  heaven  oi  lilue 
Is  still  as  bright  to  me  and  you, 

And  God  as  nigh. 
The  storm  may  come,  the  stoiin  may  go 
And  hght  our  shadow,  weal  or  woe. 
They'll  find  us  strong  and  leave  us  so — 

Our  rock  on  high  I 

And  round  us  is  a  happy  band — 

Hearts  that  are  dear; 
We  may  not  tread  the  fairy  land, 
But  heart  to  heart  and  hand  to  hand 

We'll  know  no  fear. 
And  when  at  last  we  pass  away, 
They'll  weep  and  watch  beside  our  clay 
And  kiss  those  threads  of  silver  gray 

As  I  do  here. 


SUNSET. 

Sweet  star  of  summer's  eventide 

O'er  yonder  sea  of  light, 
Where  many  a  cloudlet  cnmson^dyed 

Is  cradled  on  the  night. 
And  back  from  many  a  purple  isle 
The  darkness  rolleth  for  awhile ; 
As  sunset'o'er  that  billowy  sea 
Unveils  her  heart  of  hearts  to  thee. 


99 


I  watched  th>  coming  long  ago, 

When  but  a  pensive  child, 
Where  Vincent's  dark  blue  mountains  glow 

By  Huron  wide  and  wild. 
And  softly,  lovingly  as  now 
The  night  dews  kissed  my  throbbing  brow  ; 
I  felt  with  bird,  and  breeze,  and  flower. 
The  witcl^  of  the  sunset  hour. 

O  far  off  home  of  boyhood's  dreams- 
Dear  land  remembered  long— 

The  made  ot  the  mountam  streams. 
Thy  valleys  filled  with  song. 

Through  blighted  hope;  Through  pain  and  tears; 

Through  wandering  and  through  burdened  years; 

Denied,  unsought,  and  tempest  driven, 

Ye'tell  of  rest,  and  home,  and  heaven. 

T  o-night  I— and  such  a  night  as  this— 

His  touch  on  yonder  skies. 
Where  clouds  are  bathed  in  Eden  bliss, 

And  stars  in  splendor  rise. 
1  bless  Uim  in  the  bonds  he's  cleft ; 
The  wreath  of  hope— of  joy  that's  left ; 
The  shield  and  shelter  ever  nigh. 
The  peace  that  cometh  by  and  by. 

1  turn  ficm  these  thy  works  to  thee, 
-  O  refuge  of  our  race!  .- -      ...-^^ 


100.  : 

If  earthly  scenes  be  fair  to  see 
*         What  is  thy  dwelling  place? 

The  glowing  sunshine's  crimson  light; 
The  splendor  of  the  starry  night; 
'J  he  rainbow  arched  from  zone  to  zone 
Are  shadows  only  of  thy  throne. 

Thou  stoopest  with  a  tender  heart 

To  every  little  thing  ; 
A  refuge  and  a  rock  thou  art, 

A  Father  and'a  King! 
Did  not  life's  darkness  dun  our  sight ; 
Its  soirows  hide  thine  own  sweet  light, 
How  much  of  goodness  could  we  see? 
IJow  much  of  love  that  tells  of  thee  ? 


SONG. 

Behold  she  bows  her  crested  head 
At  Freedom's  sainttd  shrine  : 

She  feels  the  arm  of  Him  who  led 
The  prilgrims  was  divine  ; 

And  they  who  bled  for  heme  are  frte 

Famed  with  an  immortality. 

With  them  it  w:is  a  glorious  strife 
For  freedom  and  for  right ; 

And  home,  and  liberty,  and  life. 
Their  watchwords  in  the  fight ; 

The  battle  call  that  won  for  them 

A  nation's  glorious  diadem. 


